


#NickyIsNotAMouse (and other stories from a happy universe)

by LydeNicoKITE



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Found Family, M/M, Modern AU, Team as Family, Youtube AU, Youtuber Nicky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:21:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26218549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydeNicoKITE/pseuds/LydeNicoKITE
Summary: It may be a cliché to say this (“I didn’t want to become famous, it just happened!”), but Nicolò’s youtube career started as a joke. Actually, it started with Yusuf, like all the best things in Nicky’s life.--Nicky is a famous Youtuber, even if most of his fans are more interested in Joe, the elusive cameraman who never appears in front of the camera but flirts with Nicky in every video, than in the actual cooking and book reviewing.  #RevealTheHusband and #WhereIsJoe are trending on twitter every time Nicky uploads a new video, but Nicky still believes it's important to keep his life with Joe private. It can't be that difficult, right?
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia & Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Andy | Andromache of Scythia & Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani & Nicky | Nicolò di Genova & Quynh | Noriko, Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Booker | Sebastien le Livre & Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Booker | Sebastien le Livre & Nicky | Nicolo di Genova, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Nicky | Nicolo di Genova & Quynh | Noriko, Nile Freeman & Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani & Nicky | Nicolo di Genova
Comments: 226
Kudos: 1042





	1. How it starts

**Author's Note:**

> This au is a group effort. It started with me commenting under a post of Luca Marinelli reviewing a book by Philip Roth and, somehow, it never stopped. You guys gave me support, enthusiasm, funny asks and beautiful ideas on a daily basis... that's probably why it was/is so difficult to write it? I am still very scared of posting this, I hope it doesn't disappoint too many of you. This universe already has so many details, I love it and I love sharing my aus with you!
> 
> A huge thank you goes to my moon, Gala, because she took a google doc born out of desperation called 'The Garbage' and turned it into proper English: I'd never had a serious beta and you are just amazing. Thank you for everything. A special thank you to the rest of the server and my lovely mutuals on tumblrlrlr
> 
> A note: this is just the beginning, but it's still for you all. Buon appetito or something

_A Prologue_

  


**mouse_toulouse** ** : ** _I know this is an unpopular opinion, but I think Nicky’s first videos are still the best thing he’s ever done. The raw energy of the first We Tried videos? The small kitchen with half the utensils and mismatched plates? Nicky’s ultimate baby face (he was so young wtf)? Also I love Yusuf’s comments in the first videos, now he talks less because he doesn’t want to divert the attention from the food/the book, but... I just miss seeing Nicky blush and then disappear behind the camera to kiss Joe_ _😭_

  


  


It may be a cliché to say this (“I didn’t want to become famous, it just happened!”), but Nicolò’s youtube career started as a joke. Actually, it started with Yusuf, like all the best things in Nicky’s life. 

  


At the time, Nicky was unemployed, with two degrees in Italian literature and theology taking up dust somewhere between his books —he didn’t really want to frame them in the living room, especially because their flat  didn’t have a living room , or much wall space at all Truth be told, the place’s only redeeming quality was the huge kitchen, something which soon became more important than having to put the tv and two chairs in the hallway.

  


Nicky had been fired from the bar where he’d been making coffees between classes for two years, and he was trying to decide what to do next. A job in the publishing industry would have been amazing; he was waiting to hear back from an interview when Andy had called him, somewhere between the end of March and April, when spring was just getting started. 

  


What Nicky really remembers from that period was that he’d been living with Yusuf for a year, and Nicky was just realising he was madly in love, in a way that scared him a little. It had been a good year: Nicky had finished his second degree, Yusuf’s illustrations were slowly starting to gain fans. Their small flat in Florence was slowly becoming theirs, with memories attached to every nook and cranny of the place, from their window that didn’t really close, to their mismatched chairs. 

  


Money was running low for Nicky,  , and he’d probably been disowned —he hadn’t really checked after the last family dinner— yet he was hopeful and in love. That day he answered Andy’s call, he was thinking of preparing spaghetti alla carbonara, because it was going to be a good day.

  


The first few seconds of the call were silent, with a faint noise of metal hitting metal in the background. Then Andy’s voice had come through the speakers, asking him without any pleasantries if he could drive her and Quynh to their next job, because their jeep wasn’t getting started and they needed to leave the next day.

  


“It takes nine hours to get there, if you go with us you and I can take turns. It’s only five days.” Andy’s voice was even, but she rarely asked for help unless she really needed it. Nicky looked up from the kitchen table and saw Yusuf, coming back from work, wearing the black leather jacket that made Nicky lose the ability to speak or form coherent thoughts for a few seconds. Yusuf, the bastard, winked.

  


“Five days?” He repeated, mouthing ‘it’s Andy’ to his boyfriend. “Is it for the big project?”

  


“Yes.” Nicky could hear Andy’s smile in her voice. “If I get there and make a good impression, we can have more funds and be up and running by the end of the year.”

  


“That’s amazing. I think I can help you, just let me speak with Joe for a second then I’ll call you back.”

  


“Ok, but please let me now quickly, Quynh is going crazy with the jeep and we really need to leave by tomorrow morning.” 

  


The image of Quynh threatening to kill the jeep, which was probably already dead, floated in Nicky’s mind briefly as he ended the call.

  


“What happened?” asked Yusuf, not before kissing Nicky with a small smile to curve his lips. 

  


“The jeep doesn’t start so they asked me if I could drive them,” said Nicolò, who was trying not to get distracted by Yusuf’s hands on his hips, or Yusuf’s eyes, or Yusuf’s stubble.... you get it. The anniversary of their first night in the flat in Florence was in two days. Nicolò still marvelled at the way he could see Yusuf every day, when he woke up at dawn and Yusuf was snoring, when he was sick and Yusuf gave him enough blankets to drown in them, and none of it was getting old. 

  


“And you said?”

  


“They need me for five days, it’s not much.” Nicky took a look at Yusuf’s face and realised what he forgot while talking to Andy. “But we wanted to celebrate the anniversary the day after tomorrow... I’ll tell her to ask Booker.”

  


“No, no, don’t worry. Andy wouldn’t ask for help if she could find another way. Also you love Andy’s trips.”

  


“Quynh has the best playlists,” Nicolò admitted. He felt guilt sitting on his chest a little, he didn’t want to leave Joe alone. “Are you sure you don’t mind? What about the pasta? I promised you I’d make the best pasta al pesto of your life.”

  


Yusuf smiled, looking around the kitchen with the air of a foreigner visiting a neighbouring, vaguely known country. The kitchen was Nicolò’s kingdom, especially since he’d stopped working at the bar.

  


“I can cook for myself. I won’t starve.”

  


Nicky raised an eyebrow, remembering how Yusuf talked about the period of his life when he lived alone and didn’t have Nicky to cook for him as “a dreary succession of take-away meals, salads and loneliness”. Another quote: “My cooking is functional and effective, but sad. Just like my life without you.” (“Joe, that’s gross.” “Shut up, Booker, you sound like a three year old.”)

  


“Do you even know how to make pesto?”

  


They both knew the answer.

  


“It’s not really what my mum would ever cook for me, mouse.” 

  


Hearing the nickname, Nicky felt his ears grow warm: it was a new thing, started completely by chance after a less than pleasant situation involving a man calling them lab rats. It was typical of Yusuf, finding a way to make things better for Nicky in any situation.

  


“It’s quite easy, I can show you, then you can make it when I’m not home.”

  


If we want to find a pivotal moment in Nicky’s life, this afternoon may be it, right after the moment he’d started arguing with Yusuf the first time they met, outside of the university cafeteria. 

  


At this moment, Yusuf had an idea. 

  


Nicky was chattering about why pasta was probably one of God’s greatest gifts to humanity, his head stuck in the small fridge, looking for ingredients. He was so serious in his recommendations, it was really important to use fresh... basil? (What did the thing even look like? Yusuf didn’t really know), that Yusuf felt his heart skip a beat. 

  


  


Joe thought that Nicky speaking excitedly about why he loved cooking was just too cute. He took out his phone and started recording.

  


  


_  
_

_ Beginning - Florence era _

  


  


**“We make pasta al pesto for beginners” - 14M views - 7 years ago**

  


[ _play_ ]

  


The video starts with the view of a relatively small kitchen, the table occupies almost all of the space, light comes from windows on the left. Behind the table, Nicolò Genovesi, wearing a worn “ALMA MATER STUDIORUM” t-shirt and faded jeans, is looking confusedly at the phone.

“Joe, are you—oh it’s a video. What is this?” he smiles, shakes his head. 

“I need references for later if I want to cook this.”

“Oh, so this is for an educational purpose.”

“Exactly. I mean I could also watch this if I miss you while you’re gone.”

Nicky, who is still looking at the man recording the video, smiles, failing to keep his expression serious as he looks at what he’s assembled on the table. 

“Uh, okay. Seems fair.” Nicky looks into the camera, blue eyes shining “So welcome Joe, if you’re watching this it means you are probably starving.”

Joe, behind the camera, laughs. The camera shakes a bit with it.

“Or you miss me, and in that case I am sorry, I hope this pasta al pesto is enough to cure your sadness. Pasta al pesto is quite easy, you really can’t screw it up. You’ll need basil, garlic, parmesan, oil... wait how do you say pinoli in English?”

The camera zooms very close to a small bag of pine nuts, then to Nicky’s confused face.

“Joe—“

“I am trying to make this a cinematic experience.”

Nicky snorts, then shakes the pine nuts in front of the camera.

“Pinoli,” Nicky says, “these are pinoli.”

“Pine nuts.”

“Too late. I’ll call them pinoli. Let’s learn Italian with Nicky, people.”

“I would watch videos of you teaching Italian, mouse.” Joe’s voice, serious, makes Nicky blush again. He passes a hand through his hair and looks away from the camera.

“Joe, stop being distracting. Shut up. Where were we?”

“ _Pinoli_ .”

“Stop. Laughing!”

The camera shakes again. Nicky disappears from the video, there’s a cut as if the video has been stopped.

  


When it starts again, Nicky’s hair is everywhere, his t-shirt is rumpled and probably on backwards.

“Ok. My grandmother made the best pesto ever.” He points at the camera like Uncle Sam. “Honour her memory, don’t screw this up.”

  


[ _pause_ ]

  


**Comments:**

  


**tylerstan006:** Came here for the cooking, stayed for the cute guy. He is hot.

  


**martymcfly:** I’ve never seen so much love in a room since Narcissus discovered himself -cit

**  
**

** violet_evergarden_: ** this is so cute??? PINOLI 

  


**le_livre:** Holy shit I found Nicky

[ _1.4k replies_ ]

**Ray_of_sunshineJoe:** @le_livre do you guys think this was really Booker????? 

  


**Pamela Ryes:** I finally found it. Nicky’s first video ever. Oh god this is too cute MY HEART CAN’T HANDLE THIS

**K3:** @Pamela Ryes I think everyone came back here after the last video aofbekfbwifhhdhd JOE 

**Pamela Ryes:** @K3 I KNOW, I KNOW. So many memories 💙

  


**Aleexa Holland:** I tried making this and it didn’t look as good as Nicky’s. Tonight I will be visited by the ghost of Nicky’s grandma aidhwifbdifh. Guys how do you make an Italian ghost go away?

**AlessiaAa:** @Alexa Holland Prepare some pasta with ketchup and show it to her as soon as she appears. It works like magic 

**K3:** @AlessiaAa I CAN’T—

  


**sidewriter3000:** THE PINOLI. An historical moment in this fandom.

  


**im bi:** Why is *no one* talking about Nicky’s hair right after the cut? Aidhsjdhjd they were so obvious

**_.Nox:** @im bi they actually didnt confirm they were together at first

**im bi:** @_.Nox I think people had eyes even before they confirmed it, look at Nicky’s smile

  


**Charli Reactions** ☑️: Who else is here after their last video?

  


**AndyxBaklava Stan:** no one:

No one in the entire universe:

Joe: I need to compliment Nicky right now or I’ll probably self-combust 

  


**Margaret:** What is this, I was trying to find a helpful video and this started playing. Are they homosexuals?

[ _3k replies_ ]

**le_livre:** @Margaret This is the funniest thing anyone has ever written on this platform. 

  


**Quynh** ☑️: Everyone say thank you Quynh. 

[ _3.2k replies_ ]

  


•••

  


The video is hilarious from start to finish. Joe edits it mostly because he doesn’t have much to do and he does miss Nicky when he’s away. He’ll take every chance he has to see Nicky getting excited when he talks about tradition and how food is his favourite part of every culture —not counting literature. 

  


Andy works for a non-profit organisation that tries to improve the experience of children in the foster system, it’s not the first time she’s used Nicky as driver and, even if Nicky never realised this, a charming buffer between her and the people she has to deal with. Quynh is a freelance photographer and always travels with Andy, but between the two there’s not enough diplomacy when it comes to dealing with close minded people who believe nothing can be improved. Nicky gets angry too, but silently, and he often manages to get what he wants  before he starts acting on his anger with cold words and an icy stare.

  


Yusuf spends the five days without Nicky catching up with all the friends he doesn’t see much since he moved to Italy, then with the friends in Italy who know he’s not going to stay forever in Florence (Nicky had told him: “I’ll travel everywhere, only if it’s with you”), then with his family, his little brother screaming with the full capacity of his seven-year-old lungs as soon as he sees Yusuf’s face on screen. Traveling as much as he does, the only constant that promises to be with him always is Nicky. 

  


He misses his siblings like air sometimes, but he promises they’re going to visit soon.

  


“YOU AND YOUR BOYFRIEND?” screams his brother, whose black curls are everywhere, barely hiding the mischief in his eyes. Their mother says Ali takes after him, but Yusuf doesn’t remember being that clever and energetic at his age. 

  


“Yes, Nicky will come to visit.”

“Gross.” Ali says this with fascination and confusion and Yusuf laughs, thinking he can’t wait to introduce Nicky to his family as his boyfriend, not just as a friend, like it happened a few years before, when they all spent one week in Yusuf’s parents house. 

  


“Wait I need to show you my tablet.” Ali disappears looking for the tablet that their mother finally agreed to give him. 

  


In that moment, Yusuf’s phone starts buzzing with a series of messages from Booker:

  


_I need company_

_ I know you’re alone _

_ Wait it sounds creepy _

_ Nevermind open the door _

_(Creepy part 2)_

  


Yusuf blinks at the screen of his phone, then at the door, then at the computer. Ali is nowhere to be seen, probably distracted by a game he’s downloaded on his tablet. Yusuf hopes his mother won’t kill him if he closes the call without saying hello one last time, but he doesn’t want to leave Booker the time to pick the lock of their door. It’s happened before and Yusuf doesn’t want to dwell on the fact that Booker was, and potentially is, a criminal. 

  


He ends the call and goes to let Booker in. The Frenchman is waiting for him with plastic bags carrying the smell of Chinese food. He looks good, dressed in black and gray, Yusuf notices with relief that he is gaining back the weight he’d lost after Sophie. 

  


“I bring food.”

  


“This is very kind, but why do people think I can’t cook? I survived without Nicky for years, in case you forgot.”

  


Booker gives him an unimpressed look, going straight to the kitchen, which appears untouched, with the exception of a mug sitting lonely on the table, near Yusuf’s computer.

  


“Well, I see you prepared yourself...” Booker crouches to open the fridge, which is so small it drives Nicky crazy. Inside, two tomatoes, one carton of milk and a plate of pasta al pesto that Nicky left him and Yusuf forgot to finish. Ah, and pine nuts. “...a good serving of nothing.”

  


“Stop gloating, it’s not polite.”

  


Booker stands up and extracts from one of the bags what probably contains shrimp dumplings.

  


“Show gratitude.” Booker’s eyes fall on the computer screen, where Yusuf’s editing program is showing a screenshot of Nicky moving his hands in the air as he speaks (dork) that’s not very flattering. Booker’s eyebrows shoot up. 

  


“What is this?”

  


Before Yusuf can answer, Booker hits play and Nicky’s voice comes out from the crappy speakers of Joe’s laptop.

  


_“..._ _ That’s why the pesto you buy in the supermarket is just awful. Avoid that thing at all costs _ _.”_

  


Booker looks at Yusuf with a piercing, gleeful interest that would be easier to find in a deadly predator of the savannah finding the prey of the day. 

  


“Is this what I think it is? LET ME SEE!”

  


Yusuf grabs the computer and closes it carefully (he works on that thing, it is one of his most valued possessions), Booker is too slow when he tries to take the computer back. 

  


“Is it a what, a cooking tutorial?” 

  


“It’s nothing.” Yusuf doesn’t know why he doesn’t show it to Booker, maybe it’s the older brother in him that enjoys Booker’s growing desire to see the video and the power he has to keep it from him. It may also be the fact that that video  is a bit embarrassing and there’s a reason why everyone calls Nicolò “Nicky”, and that reason is that Booker will jump at the chance to make fun of Nicolò. They love each other, but there are a few topics one can never bring up when both of them are present (examples: Berlin 2006, escargots, Napoleon, pasta, the fact that Booker agreed to follow them and live in Florence for a few years because he didn’t want to lose his entire group of friends). 

  


“It’s private and I’m starving. Give me those dumplings or I swear I’ll have them anyway with you outside of my flat.”

  


Booker smiles, gracefully admitting defeat.

  


“I  _will_ see that video.” 

  


“Did you bring soy sauce?”

  


“Fine, fine. Now buckle up because I need to tell you about the idiots I work with.”

  


“Sure. I love the sound of your whining.”

  


Booker rolls his eyes, but it’s a tradition between them that goes back to the time when Nicky and Quynh were not in the picture of their little group of friends. Booker brings food and complains, Joe offers his wisdom and sometimes a shoulder to cry on, a hug, a series of creative expletives depending on what the situation requires. This agreement goes both ways, with Yusuf invading Booker’s house every time he needs time to think and someone to complain with. 

  


This time, it’s just Booker complaining about this man who keeps offering him a job which has better salary, better hours than the one he has, and would probably make Booker happier. The problem seems to be the man instead of the job, because “he is always calm, he always does his research, he’s not even bad looking!”. Booker has had a bad time dealing with his feelings since Sophie’s death. Yusuf gives him a year to realise that man is probably hitting on him, not just offering him a job. Right now, what Yusuf can do is nod in the right places and ask for more details, noticing with relief that Booker seems to have forgotten about the video.

  


How wrong and foolish he is. 

  


••••

  


Nicky comes back with a light tan and his nose red and peeling from the sun. Andy is red on the face too, Quynh, who looks like she has been sleeping for hours, opens the door with the confused and betrayed expression of a kicked puppy. 

  


“Welcome back!” says Yusuf. Nicky predictably runs to him and hugs him like he’s trying to steal the breath out of his lungs. 

  


“I missed you,” Nicky murmurs to his neck. Yusuf’s heart flutters happily in his chest. 

  


They’re all standing on the sidewalk outside Yusuf and Nicky’s building, but Yusuf is not sure Andy and Quynh will stay for dinner. Yusuf sees Andy taking a strand of Quynh’s hair that escaped her braid and tucking it behind her ear. Quynh just smiles, standing on her tiptoes to kiss Andy briefly, not being a fan of public displays of affection. It’s quite a sight, Andy smiling softly and laughing at something Quynh says. 

  


Sometimes Yusuf wonders if him and Nicky look as much in love as them. Andy and Quynh have been together for more than seven years: their love is a fixture of their group of friends. 

  


“Are you staying for dinner? I think Nicky can cook something,” he says, just to see Nicky raising an eyebrow at him.

  


“I thought you had pasta al pesto ready for our arrival,” Nicky jokes. Quynh looks at them quizzically, eyes curious as she wakes up properly. 

  


“I think it’s better if we just walk home,” Andy says after one shared look with Quynh “Thanks for the ride, Nicky. The panda never disappoints.”

  


“Il pandino è immortale.*” Quynh and Nicky say at the same time, making them laugh in sync. Quynh always brings up a side of Nicky that Yusuf loves, that part that basically grew up disobeying his parents because he couldn’t say no to his fiery best friend. Not that Nicky didn’t encourage Quynh, but she was always the mastermind behind most of their greatest moments.

  


Andy hugs them goodbye as usual; Yusuf loves Andy’s hugs because it’s that one moment where Andy lets herself convey the emotions she usually hides behind sunglasses and stern considerations. He lifts her from the ground when she hugs him, something that shouldn’t surprise her but does every time. 

  


Quynh instead shares a long, ridiculous handshake with Nicky. “They came up with it during the ride”, Andy explains, the word “children” unsaid but clear in her expression.

  


Nicky is ready to go upstairs, the fatigue from the trip already showing in his eyes, when Quynh walks back from the other side of the road, leaving Andy behind, to say something to Yusuf.

  


“That video, can I have it?”

  


“What video?” asks Yusuf, while inside he thinks he’ll never trust Booker again in his entire life.

  


“The pesto video! I want to see it, Booker too. Andy doesn’t know about it but I’m sure she’s dying to prepare some pasta  à la Nicky .”

  


“Booker told you?”

  


“Of course he did. He also complained about a Copley.”

  


“He’s hitting on him.”

  


Quynh smiles, scrunches up her nose in second hand embarrassment. 

  


“Yeah. Book’s oblivious though.”

  


“Maybe we can watch it together for Nicky’s birthday, if we get him drunk enough that he won’t complain.”

  


“Ooh, I like your idea.”

  


“But I’m sure we’ll stay perfectly sober through the whole evening.”

  


The look Quynh gives him leaves him laughing until Nicky asks what’s happening and Yusuf refuses to answer. It’s a surprise party, after all.

  


••••

  


Nicky suspects they all organised something for his birthday. A week before the big day, they’re at Booker’s, he asks Booker if he has something to do the night of his birthday, when Yusuf and Nicky are supposed to celebrate alone, at home with a good movie. Nicky is not an idiot: Booker is the worst at improvising lies, therefore he says he has a date. 

  


This causes everyone in Booker’s flat —which is bigger than Nicky and Joe’s because Book earned money in dubious legal ways back in the day— to turn and look at him. Andy looks surprised but also worried, Quynh just blinks rapidly as if she’s not sure the man in front of her is really Booker. It takes them five seconds to realise it’s a bad excuse to cover up the surprise party, but it’s too late: Nicky falls for the lie immediately. They must pretend Booker has a date.

  


“A date?” Andy asks. “Incredible.”

  


“Why didn’t you tell me?” says Quynh. She is definitely going to enjoy this. She looks at Booker like she’s seriously hurt by Booker’s silence about his love life. 

  


“I knew about the date,” inserts Joe “I am his best friend after all.”

  


“Yeah, Joe knew,” says Booker. He is as convincing as a five year old saying they’re very sick so it’s pointless for them to go to school. 

  


“And you didn’t tell me?” Nicky uses the power of his blue eyes on Yusuf, with devastating effects.

  


“I told him it was a secret. I really like this guy, his name is... is...” 

  


Quynh, behind Nicky, rolls her eyes so hard Yusuf briefly wonders if she’s being possessed. It’s incredible how bad Booker is at this. 

  


“His name’s Copley,” Yusuf says. Booker’s betrayed expression is nothing compared to the laughter in Quynh’s eyes and Andy’s bafflement; she’s heard about Copley. 

  


“Oh, that’s amazing, Book! Good luck, I guess?”

  


Booker looks murderous. Nicky acts out of good intentions, but having him ask questions about Copley all night is Booker’s definition of a nightmare. As a coping mechanism, Booker drinks, exploiting the fact that Andy is the one closer to him and the bottle of wine. Yusuf can feel Booker’s eyes on him the whole dinner.

  


“So how did you meet him?”

  


“Work.”

  


“Oh, what does he do?”

  


“The same thing I do.”

  


“And you asked him out? That’s really brave, Booker. I’m proud of you.”

  


“Joe could you please pass me the salt.  Please .”

  


  


  


It’s no wonder that when they finish dinner, Booker immediately brings up the video.

  


“I speak in the name of the people. We want to see the video,”

  


“What video?” Nicky looks around “Oh. Oh no, it’s terrible.”

  


“We’ve seen you do worse things.” Andy, the voice of truth. “It can’t be that bad.”

  


“I don’t want another tangerine incident. You guys never forget—see, you’re already laughing!”

  


“The tangerine incident was your greatest achievement. Who thought coffee and tangerines could mix so well.” laughs Quynh. 

  


“I couldn’t forget you snorting out coffee and chewed tangerines even if I wanted to, and I tried.” quips Booker.

  


“Booker, don’t be dramatic.”

  


“Title of his biography.”

  


“I am not drunk enough to see that video,” concedes Nicky, ears already red. 

  


“We can fix that.”

  


“I have it at home,” Yusuf lies.

  


“Not true, here it is!” Booker is smug as he shows the others the phone he just took from Yusuf’s jacket.

  


“Joe, are you—oh it’s a video. What is this?’’

  


Andy snorts so hard that Quynh has to hide her face in a pillow to keep her laugh quiet. They all get closer to Booker and the phone, ignoring Nicky’s laments and Booker’s high pitched laughter that is so rare Yusuf had forgotten what it sounds like.

  


Not counting Yusuf, everyone is slightly drunk, because there’s no way the video is that funny, even if Yusuf edited it at the best of his abilities. They start to lose it when Andy mutters “What the fuck is a pinoli”, then it gets only worse. Or maybe better, because looking at Nicky crying with laughter, murmuring a litany of “Oddio mio, sto morendo” as his dignity exhales its last breath and dies, at Booker finally looking like his old self, at Andy snorting every time Nicky says “pinoli”, her eyes glazed from the wine, at Quynh with the sweetest exhilarated smile on her face, Yusuf is glad he took that video. 

  


They watch the video five times in rapid succession. By the end of the fifth “Thank you to my listener, Joe, and enjoy. Uh bye!”, Nicky is lying on the ground, pretending to be dead.

  


“Kill me, Yusuf. If you ever loved me, kill me now.”

  


“I could never.”

  


“Then you never loved me. Andy, kill me.” Andy kicks him, hard. 

  


“I think I found my peace with the world. It was like therapy.” Booker lovingly taps on the screen of Yusuf’s phone, zooming on Nicky moving his hands in the air with a huge knife in his hand. 

  


“No it wasn’t.”

  


“Who wants to sleep here?” asks Booker. A chorus of affirmative groans rises from the sofa, where Andy and Quynh are basically asleep, and from the ground, Nicky.

  


“Joeeeeee, help me.”

  


Yusuf helps Nicky get up from the floor and tries very hard not to smile like an idiot because drunk Nicky is like a very affectionate cat, draped over him and pliant as they try to reach the guest room. 

  


“You smell good.”

  


“Thank you, mouse.”

  


“I really like when you call me that.” Nicky’s voice is such a slow drawl now, it’s a miracle he’s not already asleep. 

  


“Mouse? Good to know. Could you try to take off— nevermind.”

  


Nicky is sprawled on his side of the bed, dressed from head to toe. Joe takes his shoes off, then Nicky’s little frown as he sleeps is too cute and he just goes in bed with him. 

  


His phone is still in Booker’s hands, somewhere in the living room.

••••

  


It takes them a week to realise the video is on Youtube. Later, Yusuf will know that it took Booker less than 24 hours to find the video after it was uploaded: apparently it is normal for him to keep a tab on his friend’s online presence, something Yusuf still has to decide whether it’s nice of him or mildly worrying.

  


A week after dinner at Booker’s, Nicky’s birthday has come and gone in full glory of embarrassing presents and reenactments of the tangerine incident. 

  


Yusuf gets home and finds Nicky with his phone pressed to his ear, sitting at the kitchen table with his back to Yusuf. The line of his shoulder is so tense, it doesn’t take a genius to understand the call is work related. Nicky is talking with his “preacher voice” —Booker’s words, the calm and collected tone that screams of nervousness, if you know him well enough. From the outside, Nicolò sounds sure of himself and every word he says. 

  


“...Yes, that is correct.” A pause. “Thank you for your time and consideration.” Nicky’s accent gets thicker as the call reaches its end. Bad sign.

  


“Hi, mouse.”

  


Nicky turns to look at him with a little pinched smile. “How much did you hear?”

  


“Just the end.”

  


“It wasn’t that bad,” he assures him, “but they don’t really need someone like me.” 

  


Yusuf looks at Nicky and finds him unchanged from the first night they were together. He finds the same nose he loved from the beginning, and the hair that’s a bit long, now, and the lips he’s kissed and drawn thousands of times. What if the world looks at Nicky and finds in him the ordinary, the boring, the unnecessary? It’s unbelievable.

  


“I don’t know how people can refuse to work with you. They would be lucky.”

  


Nicky smiles wider than a moment before and moves the other chair for Yusuf. They sit side by side with elbows touching; Nicky has his arms crossed on the table and rests his chin on them. When he speaks, it’s a relief to find a spark of irony in his voice.

  


“I understood from their words that I am not the strongest of candidates.”

  


“You think art school gives more opportunities? I’m lucky to have a job.”

  


Nicky looks at him, eyes full of exasperated fondness and old wisdom.

  


“Yusuf. You’re the only person on Earth who can’t see how talented and educated you are. You could smile and read one of your poems or show any of your drawings and people would beg to have more of all three, because you are enthralling.” 

  


It doesn’t happen often that Yusuf finds himself without words. He is the one who speaks, who draws, who pours out his heart for the world to see. Nicolò shares his colours with Yusuf only. 

  


“Joe, are you—“

  


Nicky doesn’t like when Yusuf kisses him mid-word, but today he doesn’t complain. He is the one who leads them to the bedroom, actually.

  


But I forget, the video. You see, they forgot too. It’s still a small thing, ten minutes of an Italian guy trying to remember how to say “grate the cheese” in English then making a small digression about the history of Genoa. Quynh uploads it as a joke. Sebastien finds it because it’s his job to make research and find people online. 

  


Nicolò finds it because the owner of the bar, the one who fired him, asks him that afternoon if he now plans to make another one of those videos, because it was hilarious.

  


His words are, translated roughly: “Nicolò, I didn’t know you were on Youtube!”

  


There are words from Nicolò, impossible to understand in English or Italian.

  


“I sent your video to my cousin, the one who grew up in Brazil. He said he loved it. Are you on Youtube now?”

  


Again, more confused noises. Think of a cat, or a clever dog, or a parrot, communicating confusion and discomfort: Nicky’s noise is different but equally distressing.

  


This is the moment when Nicky’s education that forces him to speak properly kicks in.

  


“I’m sorry, what video?”

  


Giacomo begins an unnecessary description of his Brazilian cousin, Luigi, and his recent engagement. We’ll spare the reader the details.

  


“The video where you explain how to make pasta al pesto for Joe!”

  


“Ooo....oooh.” Nicky’s oh’s go through the five stages of anger: realisation of the presence of anger, anger, anger and confusion, anger, desire for revenge mixed with anger. Nicky’s anger is improperly directed at Booker. Unholy thoughts about baguettes and unethical uses of judo techniques cross his mind. From the outside, Nicky appears unfazed. 

  


“Could you send me the link? I want to see how many people saw it.”

  


“Oh, not many. Like three thousands? I think at least five hundreds are from my family.” The bar owner’s laugh is often described by clients as ‘infectious’, ‘powerful’, ‘threatening’, but Nicky doesn’t mirror it. His face is a lovely shade of red. 

  


“Thank you.” He looks at the Youtube channel on the screen of his phone.

  


“A mouse who cooks”, 56 subscribers. One video, ‘We make pasta al pesto for beginners’. The profile picture is Nicky with a fucking tangerine in his hand.

  


  


  


That photo was taken by Quynh, which was a dead giveaway. Quynh probably wanted to be discovered, like a serial killer going back to the crime scene to make a victory dance in front of the yellow tape. In this case, the killer will be soon found by an angry Italian detective and the more amused boyfriend of said detective. We promise we’ll try to not digress.

  


  


A small digression: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Republic_of_Genoa

  


  


Nicky goes home and Yusuf isn’t there. That’s why there’s nothing to stop Nicky from calling Booker. 

  


He walks around in the flat like a caged cat. A part of him hopes Booker won’t answer so that he can have the time to calm down. He’s aware that being angry like this only brings the worst out of Booker in response. 

  


“Oui allô?” 

  


In order to respect both parties involved in the discussion and the countries they represent, the author decided to omit the insults that have been exchanged in between Nicky’s accusations and Booker’s confused justifications. Let it be said that both Booker and Nicky exploited the fact that there are enough similarities between French and Italian languages that insults nimbly hop over the language barrier.

  


“IT WAS QUYNH, OKAY?”

  


Nicky keeps talking in a tense but low voice,  _how could you, privacy, mutual respect_ _..._ He then registers Booker’s words and understanding dawns on him. Of course it was Quynh. The tangerine was a touch of genius.

  


Nicky remembers a conversation with Quynh from their last trip.

  


_“You need to try new things, Bicky.”_

_ “Don’t you dare call me that.” _

_ “Bicky could be your new thing, Bicky as the one who bickers.” _

_ “Bicky Genovesi.” _

_ “Bicky Genovesi, the chef. Bicky Genovesi, the writer. Bicky Genovesi, the editor.” A pause “You could be more like Joe. He tries out new things, he cultivates his talents.” _

_ “I feel like I always lack the initial push, you know?” _

_ “That’s why you have me. You keep me calm when I get mad, I push you into danger.”  _

_ “If I’m Bicky, then who are you?” _

_ “Queen Quynh.” _

_ “..fair.” _

  


“Nicky, are you still with me?” asks Booker.

  


“Why didn’t you tell me it was Quynh’s idea  _before_ I insulted you?”

  


“I thought insults were our love language, Nicky. Plus, Quynh paid me to deal with you when you’d find out.”

  


Nicky’s friends are terrifyingly competent. They know him too well. He sits on the couch, exhales the last remnants of his annoyance at his friends’ meddling. 

  


“Do you think I should broaden my horizons and take up new hobbies?”

  


“I don’t know. I think staying at home doing nothing will just make you a burden for Joe in the long term.”

  


“I know.” Nicky chews on his lip, an idea fleshing out in his head like one of Yusuf’s sketches, first a feeling then with more and more details, until the complete image reveals itself almost naturally.

  


“Ok, I have to go. I have... uh...” Booker hesitates.

  


“A date, like last time?” Nicky rolls his eyes. 

  


“Actually, yes. I have a date. A real date.” Booker’s voice is tentatively proud, subtly questioning.  _Is it too soon?_ , he silently asks. It’s been three years since Sophie died.

  


“This is amazing. Really, Booker, I’m proud—Book?”

  


Booker hangs up on him.

  


  


••••

  


**  
**

**“We make crème brûlée to apologise” - 2.3M views - 7 years ago**

  


[ _play_ ]

  


The video starts with Nicolò Genovesi wearing an apron that says ‘Basia Coquum’, looking around as if he doesn’t know he’s being recorded. There’s a discreet cough coming from behind the camera. 

  


‘‘Oh, right. Hello everyone, I’m Bicky Genov— , no wait’’ Nicky starts laughing immediately.

  


[ _cut_ ]

  


‘‘Hello everyone, this is Nicky, I decided to make more of these videos, thank you for the kind words in the comments. I’m glad some of you liked it. Before we begin,’’ he says, with a smile that hides a laugh behind it, his eyes connect briefly with someone behind the camera, ‘‘I have been told to say hello to Luigi, thank you for being a fan and congratulations on your engagement. Now, if you want a special, personal greeting like this, leave a comment and subscribe.’’

  


The last sentence is so smooth it’s clearly practiced. Nicky’s smile is partially relieved. It’s easy to imagine Nicky doing at least twenty wrong takes before getting it right.

  


“Today, we’re going to make crème brûlée, and not only because Joe likes it-”

  


“As your editor, I deserve a 20% share of every result of your videos.”

  


“ _As I was saying_ , not only because I live with a vulture that feeds only on what I cook, but also because I owe a friend of mine an apology, and I know he has a sweet tooth.”

  


Nicky raises a wooden spoon towards the person behind the camera.

  


“Joe here will have a small portion, because he asked nicely.” 

  


“Wait, twirl so the viewers can see the apron!” 

  


Nicky looks down at his apron, then with ears already red makes a small, surprisingly graceful pirouette, showing off the “Basia Coquum” apron. It is decorated with small Italian flags, tomatoes, mices and tangerines. 

  


“Niiiice.”

  


“This is undignifying,” Nicky says, looking at the small Hamtaro someone has badly stitched over his heart. 

  


“It was a birthday gift! You look very good and professional in it.”

  


Nicky raises one eyebrow —it’s an expression that 9 times out of 10 makes him look like he’s having a stroke, but this time it works. 

  


“I think you’d like me better without it.”

  


[ _cut_ ]

  


“There’s no better way to apologise to a friend than taking the time to prepare something that you know this person will like,” Nicky says earnestly. He looks objectively amazing, radiant. “This can be a cake, a small note, a planned activity to do together. This friend of mine loves crème brûlée, for which I happen to have all the ingredients. Now, let’s begin with the actual cooking!”

  


[ _pause_ ]

  


**Comments:**

  


**pinned comment:**

**A Mouse who cooks** ☑️ **:** The response to this video has been amazing, thank you for your kind words. I am happy to tell you my friend appreciated the apology. Buon appetito!

  


**K3:** FIRST!! I WANT THE PERSONAL GREETING PLS

  


**Winchesterzz:** _I think you’d like me better without it_ EXCUSE ME 

  


**Faras:** I know Nicky wants comments about the food but… I lowkey want to know who Joe is? His voice is so beautiful? 

**gayrightsBarryAllen:** @Faras did you mean he sounds hot? Bc he is definitely hot I know it

  


**YvB:** 80% comments: Who is Joe & is he hot

15% comments: Nicky is hot

5% comments: about the actual video

  


**WrittenInJadeAndInk** **:** did I understand it right they live together??? OMG THEY WERE ROOMMATES 

  


**Ray:** First time a video like this actually showed how to DO THE ACTUAL COOKING THANK GOD. My mother loved it grazie mille

  


**Quynh☑️:** Sometimes my genius terrifies me too

[ _2k replies_ ]

  


**TransHarry:** leave a like if you ship them

[ _32k likes_ ]

  


••••

  


“Ehi, Yusuf.” Nicky is almost asleep, Joe curled around him, their fingers linked. 

  


“Mh?”

  


“Thank you, for helping me with the videos. Really.”

  


“I told you it’s fine. I love watching you talk.”

  


“... Prima di incontrarti, ti ho aspettato per tutta la vita.”**

  


“Ya ruhi, I know.”***

  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


  


*The panda is immortal

**Before I met you, I’d been waiting for you my whole life

***My soul 


	2. Of book deals, secrets and future fame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year has passed since Nicky created the channel. But just as he feels like he has his life under control -friends he loves, a boyfriend he adores more than anything else in the world, a job he doesn't mind and a hobby he can share with said wonderful boyfriend-, everything starts to change.  
> Involving secrets, random youtube videos, book deals, surprise parties, a random Nile, family vibes and feelings. 
> 
> tldr; the usual stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me so long to write this, I am sorry I left you all waiting. At least it's long? Like, very long for my standards?  
> I would probably have abandoned this if it weren't for your unending support, on tumblr, here, on discord. You were the most patient and understanding readers and fandom companions in the entire world. I feel very lucky. I am sorry I didn't answer all your comments, but I felt bad answering them knowing the doc was languishing in my drive without being updated. I really, really hope you like this. It is wild. 
> 
> A big thank you to Gala, who is always there to support me, to my 3 discords, because the people I met there are funny, supportive and kind, and finally to @morvith, who gave me strength in a moment of weakness and read this in advance to ease my worries. Oh, and thanks to @hottopicmonk, dealer of spn memes, who helped me with Yusuf's book title and runs one of my favourite tog tumblrs ever. Love you all
> 
> final note: this is unbetaed. please have mercy.

#  CHAPTER 2- Of book deals, secrets and future fame

**“We tried: 10 vegan lunch proposals for my best friend” - 987k views - 6 years ago**

[ _ play _ ]

Nicky Genovesi appears in the video wearing a green shirt, silver earrings in his ears. His beard is longer than in the previous videos. He has dark circles under his eyes but his smile is bright and he looks happy, incongruously well rested. 

“Hello everyone! Thank you for being here to celebrate our 30th video! I know it’s not much, but it’s a huge milestone for me. I even have a job now, hurray!” Behind the camera, Joe whoops.

“Yes, I can finally review books for a living, but I won’t forget this channel. Your comments are always very nice, Joe here likes the ones about my earrings.”

“You look good, mouse.”

“Yes, I like them too.” Nicky laughs; he’s heard that compliment many times before.

“As you all know, our subscribers can have the honor of receiving a special, personal message if they’re the first to comment, so today we’re saying hello to Kamala, who said she enjoyed the episode where we tried to cook macarons for my friend’s birthday.” Nicky looks at Joe. “Wait, but we messed them up completely.”

“They were inedible.” Joe doesn’t sound very contrite, more amused. 

“Yeah, they were.” Nicky blinks. “I’ll take it as a compliment. We are funny even when we fail. Thank you, Kamala, hope you like this one too!”

“Why are there so many plates on the table?”

Nicky nods, the camera moves to show the ten different covered plates that form a circle on the table. The plates are all in different shades of yellow, blue and red, primary colours arranged in a way that looks straight out of a design magazine. 

“Thank you for the question,  _ amo _ —Joe. Today’s video was born because my best friend, Quỳnh, made me notice how most of my recipes are not vegan friendly. This is mostly because I am not vegan and neither is Joe, but it’s true that for the good of the planet we should definitely limit the amount of meat and animal products we eat every week. Quỳnh started doing amazing work with a non-profit organisation that tries to preserve marine life, I’ll leave a link in the description.”

“And she’s a photographer, too,” says Joe. The camera moves to a shot of Nicky and another man, probably Joe, sitting side by side near the edge of a cliff, blue sea stretching out in front of them. Nicky and Joe’s faces are not visible since they’re talking with their heads close, too far from the photographer to see many details. 

“That was Quỳnh’s housewarming gift,” Nicky explains. “Now she asked for vegan options and we will deliver at the best of our abilities! Joe and I live in Florence, as you know by now, so I tried to prepare meals with ingredients I know I can find fresh, that haven’t travelled thousands of miles to get here. As much as I love some vegan recipes—”

“You should have seen him when he didn’t know what hummus was.”

“I thought it was a way to say dirt, not something to eat” Nicky snaps and looks at the camera with earnest light blue eyes. “Forgive the ignorance of my past self. Now I know better.”

“Bullsh—[ _blipped_ _out_ ]”

[ _ skip 10 seconds x2 _ ]

A number 10 appears on the video, near Nicky.

“We decided to prepare ten different ways to eat lunch, maybe at work, like Joe does now, without eating meat or any other animal product.”

“And I’ll rate them from 1 to 10.”

“Yes, Joe will tell us if they’re decent. One or two are old favourites of mine, but others … I don’t know.”

“I trust you, mouse.”

“Let’s begin with an easy one, then.”

[ _ pause _ ]

  
  


Comments:

**Le_livre:** I came here just to hear Joe try not to throw up after number 6. Nicky, keep up with the good work.

[ _ 495 replies _ ]

**Lovegood006:** This is why I love this channel, not everything is perfect. BUT I am sure going to prepare 3,1 and 8 at home, that one looked SO GOOD

**Wildcatz:** Can I laugh at Nicky’s face after 6 or does it make me a bad person

**Arrostocratica:** The fact that we hear Joe talking and complementing Nicky and we see Nicky being fucking in love with him BUT WE DON’T SEE JOE is cRIMINAL

[ _ 1.3k likes _ ]

**RosemaryNicky** : Give it up for the true hero, Kamala. The macaroni video is the best thing on this channel shdgbhsfjs

**Kamala:** @RosemaryNicky It was worth writing that comment for Nicky’s face

  
  


**Hayden_Sith:** Are they together? If not, Nicky is so in love

**Mouse_Toulouse:** @Hayden_Sith I’d say Joe is the one in love with Nicky. Nicky acts like they’re friends and Joe has a crush on him

**Hayden_Sith:** @Mouse_Toulouse did you take a look at Nicky’s face every time Joe says something? His eyes light up. He literally started this channel for Joe, this video might be for Quỳnh but he always cooks things that he thinks Joe will like

**Mouse_Toulouse:** @Hayden_Sith so you think Nicky is the one crushing on Joe?

**Hayden_Sith:** @Mouse_Toulouse yeah, IF they’re not together already. Joe could be just a very supportive sweet friend

**Tomfooooolery:** @Hayden_Sith a very supportive totally not straight sweet friend

  
  


––––––––––––––––––––––––––

  
  


**toofasttoogaytoofurious:** _ In the light of the Instagram Live (year 6 aP, after Pinoli) that changed the fandom forever, I need to tag a bunch of friends I made along the way, the Blue Hair Nicky gang. We all became fans of the channel at the same time and even if we weren’t there from the beginning and we weren’t part of the WhereIsJoe movement I know we had the best time ever. Say what you want about other eras but the Blue era had it all: Nicky at dark, wlw icon Andy, drunk sommelier Booker, book reviews, the IKEA debacle… It was an honour to live it all with you<3 @finally-new-chapter, @pinolis …. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_ Mr.Yusuf Al-Kaysani, _

_ We are pleased to inform you... _

Yusuf closes the laptop quickly, heart pounding. He exhales, tapping his fingers on the closed computer, his valued companion of many sleepless nights and endless hours at the office. While his mind travels fast like he hasn’t slept in too long, he looks at the painting hanging on the wall, his first gift to Nicky, then at the bookcase covering the entire opposite wall of the hall. After almost two years living in the flat, he’s now used to considering the hallway as the living room, he knows which windows don’t close, where to kick when the washing machine stops working. The flat is familiar like Nicky’s smile when he comes back from work. 

He doesn’t know if Nicky will leave Florence, Italy, for him. Yes, they talked about leaving for work, they discussed living in other places when they were travelling with Andy or that first time in Malta –Nicky with skin warm from the sun, marveling at the freckles on Yusuf’s nose, his smile growing as Yusuf proposed countries, cities, _ yes, anywhere with you, but maybe where it’s not too cold, you always have cold. _ But they never discussed it seriously since Nicolò started his YouTube channel and then found a job as an editor. 

Yusuf is slowly panicking, the way he does when the list of things to do is enough to make his head dizzy. His brain decides in that moment to remind him that he should speak with Nicky about what video they should do next. They usually film on weekends and Nicky has many ideas, but they didn’t have time to discuss which one they should do next. When they started making videos, almost a year before, Nicky would often write down ideas when they were in bed, while Joe was reading. Nicky leaves his notebook on the nightstand, with cutouts of recipes found in magazines or printed from articles on the internet messily tucked between the pages. In the past two weeks, though, Nicky went to bed after him and didn’t share his ideas with Joe, deflecting the questions with grumbled: ‘It’s late, love, let’s sleep’. The worst weeks are always the ones where they don’t spend enough time together. 

Before he can open the laptop to read the email for a second time, he hears Nicky’s voice coming from the kitchen. 

“Of course I love you. Yes, I miss you. How dare you say I don’t miss you.”

Yusuf’s eyebrows rise against his will. 

“I miss you like… like salads miss vinegar. Like  _ pasta alla carbonara _ misses pecorino.” A pause. From where he’s sitting, Joe can see a fraction of the kitchen, the door is half closed. Nicky is cutting zucchini, phone precariously balanced between his head and shoulder. He’s smiling a little.

“Love you.” he repeats with fond exasperation. “Yes. Yes, of course. I trust you with that.”

Yusuf stands up, leaves the laptop on the chair. Nicky sees him and his eyes go wide for a second. 

“It’s  Quỳnh, right?” Yusuf asks. 

Nicolò nods, moves his shoulder so that Yusuf can take the phone for him.

“ Quỳnh, do I have to worry? I kept hearing Nicky declaring his love for you.” he says to his friend, whose smile can be heard through the phone. 

“Hi, Joe! We tried in third grade I think. The experiment lasted three seconds because Nicky’s hands were sweaty and Serena was much prettier than him.” Quỳnh’s voice betrays tiredness and a forced levity that makes Yusuf worry. In front of him, Nicky has stopped dicing the zucchini and looks at him with attentive eyes. The dark circles under his blue eyes are so stark on the gray skin that Yusuf wonders when was the last time they went to bed early, together. Probably before they realised all their deadlines from work were in the same week. 

“Is everything alright?”

Quỳnh doesn’t speak at first, then she lets out a short sigh, like she does when she needs to be ready for a challenge. Joe prepares himself for the hit.

“We’re moving.” she declares. Her tone is final, but also apologetic. Yusuf feels, irrational like only the heart can be, that he was the one who brought their golden time in Florence to an end when he opened that email. Nicky’s shoulder sag, he furrows his brow. Yusuf realises he is surprised: Nicky didn’t know. They were talking about something else, then. 

“Oh, that’s… where?” He asks, still shocked.

“Lisboa, for six months. Then we don’t know, Andy needs to know the details of the new job.”

“So she got the promotion, that’s wonderful!”

Quỳnh is clearly relieved, she tells him of how Andy was holding Quỳnh’s hand when she took the call and almost broke Quỳnh’s fingers, eyes ablaze, when she learnt of the promotion. 

“She deserves it. Quỳnh, it’s wonderful!” Nicky comes closer to yell at the phone. Quỳnh whoops in response, but it’s clearly forced.

Quieter, Quỳnh asks: “How sad is Nicky from 1 to the one time you almost broke up?”

Yusuf looks at Nicky, who is handling the dicing of the carrots with more violence than usual. He doesn’t raise his eyes from the counter, and even for an untrained eye the line between his eyebrows is difficult to miss. 

“...Eight?”

“Tell him it’ll happen after the end of the year. It’s not like we’re leaving tomorrow never to return.”

“Shouldn’t you have led with that? Nicky, they leave in January, cheer up.” He tells Nicky, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“What? I thought— Oh fuck you, Quỳnh. She was speaking like we were never going to see each other again.” Nicky raises his hands in defeat, but even if he clearly wants to leave the room with a dramatic flair he comes closer to the phone. Yusuf puts Quỳnh on speakers. 

“It is a ‘bad news, less bad news’ technique. Leading with the worst then softening the blow.” Quỳnh’s voice fills the room. 

“It’s what Andy would do,” Yusuf comments, and Quỳnh laughs: “ _ Yeah _ . She did it when she asked me out.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Nicky says, reluctantly smiling with that confused amusement that makes his subscribers write ‘ _ He’s adorable, I CAN’T _ ’ in the comments. Joe reads those comments just to mentally agree with every one of them. 

“ _ Quỳnh, I am sorry. _ ” Quỳnh says, imitating her girlfriend’s voice with ease. “ _ I know we said we would be best friends until the end but I really want to kiss you. _ ”

“How terrible.” Joe says deadpan. Nicky, like a cat drawn to the sun, now has his hands on Joe’s hips and rests his forehead on his shoulder, like he always does when he’s tired. 

“What was the other part?” Nicky asks, eyes still closed. 

“Oh, I never got to hear it. I kissed Andy.” 

Yusuf blinks, confused again. It really doesn't make much sense.

“ Quỳnh, how tired are you?” 

“I haven’t slept in 32 hours and I miss Andy. I finished watching reruns of MasterChef Italia 2011 and then I called Nicky because I have nothing to do.” Quỳnh sounds proud of herself: her terrible sleep schedule, made worse by suffering from insomnia and having a job that doesn’t have fixed hours, is well known among her friends. 

“You should come here. We always have food for one more, and there’s the sofa if you don’t want to sleep alone.” Yusuf looks at the clock. It’s half past eight, which is still dinner time in Italy. Quỳnh probably hasn’t eaten in hours. 

“Have you seen the video I made for you? I tried that quiche you told me about.” Nicky adds, and the way he lights up when Quỳnh screams “ _ No _ ???” makes Yusuf’s heart ache. They’ve gotten so used to basically living together, Yusuf wonders if Quỳnh is just as worried about the idea of living far away from them as Nicky is –not that Joe is thrilled by the idea of the group separating. Quỳnh accepts Joe’s offer immediately, confirming his suspects that this was all in her plan. 

Nicky cooks while Joe sits at the kitchen table, sketchbook open and pencil in hand, and they exchange details from their day while they wait for Quỳnh. Nicky is doing his best impression of his boss, Valerio, who became insufferable since he found out everyone except him loves Nicky’s channel. Nicky rarely makes jokes in public, he prefers to show his ability to throw sarcastic jabs only when Booker is involved; when it’s just the two of them, he lets go of some of his usual restraint and Joe loves every second of it. His boyfriend has an eye for details when it comes to the way people talk, walk, smile, which makes his impressions merciless but hilarious. Yusuf met Valerio once, when he was waiting for Nicky to have a coffee with him during a break: Valerio spoke moving only half of his mouth, in a way that Nicky can replicate perfectly.

“And then he said: ‘I read your paper’, trying to act intimidating with the largest coffee stain in the world on his shirt and—stop looking at me like that, you’re distracting me!” Nicky laughs, dropping the facade for a second. Yusuf sees the smile and starts drawing it immediately, Nicky’s face is familiar to him but always a challenge. The more Yusuf looks at Nicky, the more details he learns, and there’s only so much of what he learnt in years of devoted observation he can transfer to the page. He just hopes he’ll have enough years to learn how to give Nicky’s eyes justice. 

“He was insufferable the whole day, he didn’t want to admit he was the one who kicked the coffee machine.” Nicky says, turning just when Yusuf was studying how to perfectly capture the position of the mole on his cheek.

“Turn around, I like the shadows of this one.” Joe pleads, the lines are adding up and the sketch is almost finished. He could always draw fast, Joe remembers Nicky’s surprised gasp the first times he saw him drawing. ‘ _ Did you do this just now?’ _ , Nicky said, eyes wide and lips parted: Joe knew he was gone for Nicky even then.

Nicky turns, tries to replicate the pose from before as best as he can. His neck is pink and he scoffs a little, but he is not in the mood to protest and pretend he doesn’t enjoy Joe’s attention. (Nicky keeps all of Joe’s sketches.)

“I was thinking, for the next video,” Nicky says when Joe signals he can move again. Yusuf eyes the sketch, head tilted to one side: the mole is there but now he realises he drew the right ear all wrong.

“Tell me.”

“People loved hearing your opinions on what I cooked. But you said you didn’t want to appear in videos, so…”

Once the misshapen ear has been deleted, Yusuf raises his eyes from the notebook. 

“If you want me in the video, I can do it.”

Nicky is already shaking his head as he stirs the sauce for the pasta. 

“I was the one who said we should keep some things private. And you said you never felt comfortable in front of cameras, I don’t want our trusted 70000 followers to see you uncomfortable and not having fun. This was always about—no, let me finish, please, love,” Nicky adds when he sees Joe open his mouth to speak, sketch forgotten. “I know you would do it for me and it might be fun. But it also might be stressful and not a pleasant experience for both of us, and this has always been a passtime for us to have fun. I like this because we do this together. I like my life because you are in it enjoying yours.”

Joe looks at Nicky, dark circles, half-shaved beard, his eyes so earnest. 

“People say I’m the poet, but Nicolò—”

Joe wants to kiss Nicky so much, it is a crime against God that Quỳnh decides to ring the doorbell in that precise moment. Neither of them moves.

The doorbell rings again but Nicky is still looking at him.

“Whatever you’re thinking, hold that thought when Quỳnh leaves, ok?” Nicky says. He leaves a quick kiss on Joe’s lips as he goes to open the door for Quỳnh.

“Bicky!” Quỳnh exclaims.

“ Quỳnh, you—”

Yusuf understands the first part of the sentence because then Nicky switches to Italian, speaking with a low voice, so fast that if Yusuf didn’t know he’s probably insulting her for the way she decided to deliver the news of them moving, he would think he’s trying to tell her something away from Yusuf’s ears. 

“ _ Yes _ , of course, ugh Nicky, you need to trust me.”

Soon Quỳnh steps in the kitchen with a tub of ice cream under her arm, followed by Nicky. Quỳnh is wearing one of Andy’s favourite jerseys, black with tacky red flames and “RED HOT CHILI & PEPPERS” stitched in big white letters on the back —it cost 5 euros, Andy loves bad knockoff versions of famous brands. Quỳnh is probably very tired and grumpy because she doesn’t even try to ruffle Joe’s hair. She just sits beside him and looks morosely to the empty chair in front of her, Andy’s seat. 

“When is Andy coming back?” Joe asks goodnaturedly. 

“Two weeks. But I  _ know _ half of those meetings could have been emails.” Quỳnh sighs and smiles at him, her whole expression softens. “I’m sorry, Joe, how are you? I brought ice cream.”

“Oh, I’m fine, thank you. We’re all a bit tired.” 

Quỳnh nods, and before she can say something like ‘Tell me about it’ or ‘Me too, fuck’, Nicky yawns so loudly that Quỳnh has to look at him. 

“Well, that was the sound of a very tired specimen of  _ Nickicus Youtuberis _ , an endangered variety of…”

“Raccoon,” Yusuf supplies. Nicky has his head stuck in the small fridge, looking for parmesan, so Yusuf and Quỳnh see only his hand, middle finger outstretched, raised over the table. 

Quỳnh tries not to laugh but her smile is impossible to stop, it grows and lights up her face, it’s the smile that made Yusuf realise that Quỳnh wasn’t as closed off as she looked when he first met her. 

It is probably a bad idea, he thinks, to hold so many people close to his heart, where they have free access to the soft spot where they could hurt him the most: Joe let himself trust Booker, then Andy, then of course Nicky, but Quỳnh joined the group so quickly without him even realising it. It couldn’t have happened in any other way: her smile in Yusuf’s eyes is a source of wonder.

Joe hands Nicky the ice cream so they can eat it later, once they’ve finished Nicky’s pasta.

He still has a stupid smile stuck on his face when he realises, this might be one of their lasts impromptu rendez-vous. Even if he never spoke to Nicky about the content of that mail, something is already changing, slowly, irrevocably. He feels like a teenager realising childhood is slipping away, that some parts of his life, loved or hated, it doesn’t matter, are gone and they’re not coming back so he can say goodbye. 

He could tell them about the mail right away. It would probably be better to bring everything to the table now that the possibility of him leaving Italy looks more real than ever before. But Nicky is tired, Quỳnh doesn’t look like she is in better shape either, he doesn’t dare to bring up the topic. Quỳnh rests her head on the chair, long black hair falling on her shoulder, reaching her elbows. Her eyes are pointed to the ceiling, Nicky and her are having a very deep conversation that goes on like this:

“Nicky, can we eat the ice cream now?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No, Quỳnh. I made pasta.”

“You always make pasta. This is gelato.”

“And this is pasta.”  _ Groundbreaking _ , Yusuf thinks. He snorts but the other two ignore him. 

“Please?” 

“No.”

Nicky drains the pasta, and of course the result is great, Yusuf has grown to love Italian food because everything Nicky cooks is great. Or, to be honest: Nicky always tries his best when he knows he’s cooking for Joe and other people he cares about.  _ Food is social, it is affection. It’s sharing food together that makes the cooking worth it. At least it works this way for me.  _ The channel gained at least three hundred new subscribers when Nicky did that little speech. 

When Nicky cooks for himself, it’s another matter entirely: food doesn’t have to be great, it only needs to be healthy and nutritious. Joe once made the mistake to try Nicky’s packed lunch, sad looking asparagi and spelt, or another time chicken breast with broccoli. Joe was already feeling guilty because he was stealing Nicky’s food, but he immediately realised that the food just didn’t taste the same. 

“Joe, I can see your brain trying to work and failing.” Quỳnh tells him. She’s eating the pasta voraciously and the amount of parmesan Nicky put on his plate is bordering on ridiculous. When Nicky’s tired he eats a lot and right now he and Quỳnh act like famished teenagers.

Joe gulps down the bite of pasta, shakes his head. 

  
“Is the pasta bad?” Nicky asks, raising his eyes from the plate for the first time since they started eating. 

“No, no, it’s great,  _ azizi _ , don’t worry.” 

Nicky looks at him so pleased and relieved, Joe thinks:  _ I can’t lose you. I can lose Quỳnh and Andy, even Booker, but not you. I have to tell you- _

Quỳnh drops the fork on the porcelaine with a  _ ting _ . 

“I forgot to ask! How is the book going?” 

Joe doesn’t have the time to open his mouth to speak that Nicky chokes on the pasta and hits a glass of water, flooding the table. This surprises Yusuf and Nicolò himself, but not Quỳnh. She expected a similar reaction.

But first, we must digress.

  
  


**A STORY WITHIN A STORY, or: something our characters know and we don’t, and that we must discuss**

Yusuf Al-Kaysani can’t remember well the time when he didn’t have a notebook with him at all times.

When he was little, he always needed a piece of paper to draw on, a blank space to write his name over and over. Yusuf was, in the words of his mother, grandmother and older cousin respectively, ‘a lively child’, ‘an adorable troublemaker’, ‘an incredible pain in the ass considering how small you were’. The only way Yusuf would stop jumping around and disturbing the adults was by giving him paper and pencil. The effect was instantaneous, Yusuf hid under tables and started drawing. It was love, the purest kind, the everlasting kind. Yusuf started filling his small world with words when he was little and never stopped. 

He doesn’t remember that day, but the story of the 1975 agenda has been told many times and now it’s like he lived the scene from the outside, painted by his father’s words, while the actual memory got lost in time. It was summer and his father saw Yusuf going around with all his drawings and ‘important scripts’; Yusuf always ran as if he was late for something, and he was leaving a trail of paper on his path. His father stopped him and gave him an old agenda saying: ‘Write on this one’. Yusuf was five. 

The agenda had been bought for the year 1975 but it had never been used, the pages were thick, a pearlish white with thin blue lines, one page for each day. Yusuf learnt to write on those lines and drew around the huge black numbers in the high corner of the page. He couldn’t bear to separate from the agenda, he was five from January to May 1975, six from May to December. 

When he reached the 31st December 1975, his mother was ready. She gave him a notebook, it had a yellow cover and was small enough Yusuf thought it had been made exactly for him, small like he was. He still carries it with him, a piece of home. 

When people ask Yusuf when he started to write poetry, he thinks of the yellow notebook. Somehow, the small pages made him think that you couldn’t fit too many words on one line. It felt right to try to give them space to breathe, to choose words carefully. When he met Nicky, many years later, he gave him an entire page, just for their first encounter. Angry capital letters: 

NICOLO’ DI GENOVA.

THAT FUCKER.

  
  


They took the long way to reach love.

Yusuf remembers being good at writing, when he was young and wasn’t afraid to show his little notebook around. 

Once, his mother was cooking and he went into the kitchen with his nose stuck in the pages of his yellow notebook. 

“Mama, I wrote a poem!”

This announcement happened often, sometimes it came from Yusuf’s siblings, who copied their older brother in everything, so they said they were writing poems any time they were anywhere close to a piece of paper. Yusuf’s mother kept cooking, “Give me a moment, love.”

Yusuf remembers the scene with a burning sense of embarrassment despite how many years have passed since then. He pestered his mother, saying she absolutely needed to read his poem, it was  _ important, mama, very important, you don’t understand _ .

His mother finally took the notebook from his hand with a sigh, not before passing a hand through her son’s curls. 

“You need to learn the gift of patience,” she said. Then, she read the poem. Yusuf knows that the love of a mother is one of the greatest force in this universe, and that his mother loves more than most people in the entire world, so her opinion was terribly biased (all art is biased, Joe himself would argue), but his mama read his first poem –a few lines, really, about how he loved his family– and a surprised teary sob left her lips soon after.

“Oh, but you already have a gift.” his mother hugged him. Yusuf thought, the feeling clear and absolute:  _ this.  _

Years later, “Do you know what you want to do in your life?”

Yusuf, with a carton box full of notebooks, paint stains on his t-shirt and ink on his fingers:  _ this.  _

  
  


Art and poetry never left him. And when Yusuf met the other great love of his life, in the form of an Italian literature student with clear blue eyes and terrible opinions, art and poetry were there to catch him in the fall. 

Yusuf hadn’t really planned to fall in love with Nicky. If he had to be honest with himself, he almost hated him at first, when they used to argue every time Andy made the mistake to invite both of them to their outings. Then, something had changed, slowly. Nicky had. Not only he’d apologised for his insensitive and ignorant words, but he’d started acting differently, trying to understand Yusuf’s point of view before explaining his. 

They had been friends, truly friends, for more than a year when Yusuf had looked at Nicky, who was screaming as Quỳnh threatened to throw tomatoes at him (long story), Nicky who was kind and compassionate, Nicky who had changed, and Yusuf had realised that the poems he was writing were mostly about Nicky. It wasn’t the result of an abstract idea, the poem about blue-green eyes that hide the gentleness of the sea behind them. Nicky was in his words and his drawings, in his dreams. 

A week after that moment, Joe kissed Nicky, with the stars of their first summer together to witness. Nicky’s first words after the kiss were: “I dreamed of this for so long I am not sure this is real.”

  
  


Nicky was his number one fan when it came to art, but even more when it came to poetry. He was always honest when he gave his opinion, when he didn’t like a poem or a certain line he still showed with careful words that he understood what Yusuf was trying to say. Nicky read his poems and thought about them for minutes, perfectly still on the sofa, phone in hand. The seriousness that Nicky reserved for Yusuf’s poetry, the same he showed in his studies, warmed Yusuf’s heart. 

Even before they were together, Nicky was the only one who knew of Yusuf’s poetry account on twitter and instagram. Yusuf was always comfortable drawing around people, sharing his drawings to friends and teachers alike, but he hid his poetry notebook to everyone who wasn’t his mother, and then Nicky became the second exception. He didn’t remember how Nicky had convinced him to share the name of the account, only that Nicky had left a string of little red hearts on the instagram account, then sent him his thoughts about each of the poems. It probably had to do with the fact that Yusuf didn’t know how to resist Nicky when he asked for something, which happened rarely. Also, crushes make everyone act stupid. 

It was only logical that Nicky was the biggest advocate for the Tangerine project. ‘Tangerine’ was the title Yusuf had chosen for a hypothetical book of poems.

“Why ‘Tangerine’?” Booker asked in one of their dinners where Nicky, ignoring Yusuf sending him dirty looks over the table, had brought up the topic of Yusuf’s poetry account.  _ He could publish a book, that’s what I’m saying. He even has a perfect title for it. The world should learn of your talent. _

“Well, the title would be ىوسفي , which means tangerine in Egyptian and some Levantine Arabic, it’s a long story.”

“My Joe writes in English, Arabic, Italian and French.” chimed in Nicky, smiling. 

“But it won’t happen, so it’s useless to talk about it.” Yusuf said, turning his attention to his falafel again. Andy always found the best take away in the city. A chorus of ‘no’ and ‘Joe!’ met his words. Andy was looking at him like a predator waiting for an opening to attack, but Yusuf kept eating without raising to her bait.

“You could ask Jean to be your agent, they love your poems.” Nicky persisted, avoiding Yusuf’s eyes like a man does when he has a guilty conscience.

“You sent Jean the account?” Yusuf couldn’t believe it. Jean was one of Yusuf’s friends from college, and they were a literary agent, one of the best if you asked Nicky’s colleagues. Their taste was impeccable, and their opinion mattered to Yusuf more than the ones of the strangers who left comments under his posts.

“They asked, I didn’t do anything. I just shared the link and said you were interested in finding a publisher in the future. The choice is yours, I just prepared the ground for you.”

“ _ ‘Tangerine’ _ , best seller in the poetry section, coming to you by the end of next year!”

Beside Quỳnh, with less shouting but the same enthusiasm, Andy said: “I think you should do it.”

  
  


It had taken them one month to convince him to call Jean. 

  
  


END OF DIGRESSION. WE THANK OUR READERS FOR THEIR PATIENCE

  
  


_ “I forgot to ask! How is the book going?”  _

_ Joe doesn’t even have the time to open his mouth to speak that Nicky chokes on the pasta and hits a glass of water, flooding the table. This surprises Yusuf and Nicolò himself, but not Quỳnh. She expected a similar reaction. _

In this moment, Quỳnh is the equivalent of an omniscient being. She knows that Jean called back with good news after a year of waiting and negotiations: not only the book is happening, but the deal is exactly as Yusuf requested. Quỳnh knows that Nicky was the one who answered the call while Yusuf was at work, and that Jean had the idea of keeping the whole thing secret to surprise Yusuf once every detail was smoothed over. 

Quỳnh looks at her best friend, who is gaping like a fish out of water and coughing, a pitiful show. Nicky is terrible at keeping secrets from Joe. Every reference to the book sends him in a state of barely contained panic he hides with stress-baking —the house is full of madeleines, meringues and  _ raviole _ . Quỳnh’s dark eyes show little mercy, if not amusement. 

Beside Nicky, Joe is confused and mildly worried. He stopped the flooding and now pats Nicky in the back, with more violence than needed by the way Nicky tries to stop him and coughs even more by trying to speak.

Quỳnh shouldn’t find the whole thing funny, but she’s tired, she misses Andy, and Nicky sent her forty messages in the last four hours because he’s trying to prepare a surprise dinner for Yusuf and he is afraid he’s been too obvious about it. She deserves to laugh internally at the look of sheer panic and betrayal Nicolò sends her way. 

“Did Jean call you back?” she asks Yusuf while she pats Nicky lightly on the head.

Nicky’s look could be catalogued as ‘murderous’. Quỳnh subtly raises her glass to meet it, and makes a mental toast with Coke in his honour.

The dinner is, overall, a success. 

———————————————-

A week passes and Yusuf definitely suspects something. Nicky is almost relieved that they both have so many things to do, because this means that he doesn’t have to lie to Yusuf about the book deal. Their schedules seem to take away all their rituals on purpose: they don’t see each other in the mornings anymore because Nicky leaves earlier than Joe, they text but they’re never online at the same time. Their days are a sequence of stilted text conversations: ‘ _ I hope your meeting goes well! _ ” then silence,  _ ‘Good morning love, did you see the croissant I left for you? _ ’, no response,  _ ‘Are you coming home soon? _ ’ ‘ _ Long day, have dinner before me _ ’. 

Nicky misses Yusuf in small things that wouldn’t make sense to anyone else but them, like when he’s cycling to work and he sees a small painting of a bowl of tangerines and oranges in the window of a shop. Later, he sees a funny comment on one of the channel’s videos and thinks of Joe, who likes to read out loud the best ones when Nicky is actually trying to sleep.

_ “This is hilarious, habibi. Listen: ‘No one: No one in the entire universe: Nicky: *speaks*, Joe: you’re right and you should say it.’’’  _

_ “Joe, what happened to your sense of humour, I’m trying to sleep here.” _

The owner of Nicky’s favourite bar asks him where Joe ended up after he sees Nicky taking coffee by himself. The little comment about Joe’s absence leaves Nicky sad for the rest of the afternoon. He thinks of how they built a life together in Florence, and his heart aches a bit thinking of Andy and Quỳnh leaving. That day he sends a text to Booker, feeling a rush of gratitude that at least  _ he  _ is not planning on leaving Florence anytime soon.

[From Nicky To Le Rat aka Booker<3]  _ You know I love you right? _

[From Booker To Nicolò.ita]  _ Are you okay _

_ Did someone hurt you Nicky  _

_ Tell me I am bored  _

_. _

_ Nicky are you okay? _

[From Nicky To Le Rat aka Booker<3]  _ Everything’s fine.  _

[From Booker To Nicolò.ita]  _ Love you too you idiot _

Jean texts him twice, messages involving more emojis and stickers than actual words, even if between hearts and turkey emojis –Jean’s obsession with that emoji leaves Nicky puzzled– he deciphers: _“THE BOOK IS GOING TO BE GREAT.”_

Nicky shares the enthusiasm, which he channels into preparing a surprise celebratory cake, with Quỳnh as main supporter and mental coach. She is the one who hits him in the head every time he is tempted to crack and reveal everything to Yusuf.

“I don’t like to keep things from him!” Nicky says, rubbing his head where Quỳnh hit him with a newspaper.

“It’s just a week, Nicky. You can do it and you know Joe will like the surprise.”

When he found out about the cake, Booker texted him: “30€ that you don’t last the week.”, as an incentive. Nicky texted back the baguette emoji, which Booker rightly interpreted as an insult. 

Quỳnh is right, of course. It’s just a cake. They wouldn’t hide anything serious from the other. Nicky comes home from their secret team meeting / group-discussion-on-the-matter-of-cakes with a renewed sense of purpose. He can do this.

_ It’s a pity I can’t make a video about this _ , he thinks.

Since he started making videos with a regular schedule, his brain is now wired to think of possible video ideas in a way that surprises him. Nicky loves his little YouTube channel, the preparation that goes behind each video, the cooking in itself, how Joe is always there to give his opinion and help him with the script —which is inevitably abandoned when something goes wrong, like the time Nicky ended up at the hospital with a gash on his forehead. 

The channel has grown steadily over the past year, they have  _ fans _ , people who come back to see more of Nicky’s recipes and experiments. Many complain about not seeing Joe, but Nicky appreciates that people don’t know that much about them. There are already way too many comments about Joe being incredibly hot and they haven’t even  _ seen _ him.  _ Yeah,  _ Nicky wants to type sometimes,  _ my boyfriend is very hot.  _ He settles for liking those comments with his private account.

Nicky opens the door, still thinking of what video they could do next. 

_ A video on breakfast food maybe, _ he thinks. He leaves scarf, beanie and bag by the door. Looking at one of Booker’s hats, left on the top of the coat rack like a crow watching over him, he remembers one night at Joe’s flat, when they still didn’t live together. They discussed something similar, because Nicky asked if he should make pancakes for everyone in the morning. 

He remembers Booker crying, partially drunk, screaming at Quỳnh that crêpes were infinitely superior to pancakes. Andy had laughed that night, then she’d made everything worse by joining the discussion, ‘ _ Blini are so much better, you idiots’ _ . Joe had been the first one to jump on the sofa on top of Booker and Andy to make them shut up, then Quỳnh had grabbed a cushion.  _ A night ended in blood of pillows, _ to quote Joe.

_ Maybe breakfast food is too controversial.  _

The little flat is not silent, which surprises him: Joe is rarely home before him. Not only that, but there’s an unmistakable sound of Edith Piaf coming from the kitchen.

“Booker?” 

Booker and Joe are in the kitchen, and there’s something suspicious in the way Joe jumps on his chair when he sees Nicky.  _ Yusuf probably knows something’s happening.  _

“Hi, Nicky.” Booker nods. Since he broke up with Copley, he’s back at their house at random times in the day, but at least the situation is completely different than with Sophie. Copley was a nice guy, but Nicolò suspected from the beginning that Booker wasn’t as invested in the relationship as the other man. Nicky observes, even if the only one who usually hears his deductions is Joe: Booker was almost too controlled when he was around Copley, like he didn’t feel comfortable enough to cuss in French or cry for rom-coms like he usually does when he’s with his friends. 

Booker and Copley broke up quietly during a dinner date, in a way that left both men more melancholic than sad. Nicky takes a look at Booker, notices the new jacket, the designer jeans, the spark of mischief in his eyes. It’s nice to see him doing okay. And if this is a facade and Booker is not fine, Nicky hopes that —this time— he’ll ask for help, if not to the group at least to Joe, who is a brother to the Frenchman. 

On the other side of the table, Joe is wearing an old cardigan over black tank top and sweatpants, his hair is in a state of disarray that speaks of inner turmoil. When Joe’s thinking, he passes his hand in his curls without even realising it, and this time there wasn’t Nicky to fix it.

Nicky  _ observes _ . Joe’s eyes are happy but his smile is a little forced, the cardigan he’s wearing is Nicky’s, another sign of Yusuf being distracted and lost in thought.

The cardigan comes from the time Nicky was a literature student trying to understand how to dress like one, preferably without causing eye damage. After years of being with Yusuf, who secretly burned a few of Nicky’s sweaters that belonged to the eye-damaging category, Nicky recognises that that cardigan is awful. It is a shade of maroon that reminds of… well, dog shit, the quality of the wool is terrible and it itches so much it’s like having the rat from Ratatouille under the shirt, this time without the rat’s consent. As if on cue, Joe scratches his neck. Maybe Nicky is staring. At least Joe is used to having Nicky’s complete attention.  _ It’s flattering, and makes me want to kiss you every time.  _

Nicky kisses him, Joe’s past words in his mind, and he’s rewarded with the objectively most beautiful smile in the world, eye wrinkles and all. Nicky’s thoughts melt and what’s left is the two brain cells whose only job is thinking of how amazing Joe is 24/7. 

“How was work?” Joe asks. 

“Dreadful.” But he says this with a smile, the _‘without_ _you’_ goes unsaid like a well worn joke. “I had coffee with Quỳnh, though.”

He sits down between Joe and Booker, there are three  _ raviole _ left on the plate in front of him. Nicky baked them before realising the process could have been material for a nice little video. 

The _raviole_ are not to be confused with _ravioli_ , dumplings, as Nicky found out when he studied in Bologna. When Nicky left that morning the plate was full of them, half moon shaped pastries filled with _mostarda_ , a jam of plums, quince, grape mush. The crust tastes a little bit of lemon, but they’re still very sweet, covered in sugar.

Making  _ raviole _ reminds Nicky of the old ladies — _ zdaure _ bolognesi, in the dialect of the city— that owned the bakery in Bologna where Nicky bought bread and pastries every few days. Everything cost an eye and a leg inside that place, but the ladies were nice, white-haired possessors of stories and cooking knowledge.

His stomach grumbles for the  _ raviole _ .

“Don’t you dare touch these,” Booker says, curling his arm around the plate, moving it away from Nicky. “I don’t know what these are but they’re good.”

“I baked them, they’re  _ raviole _ , and I’m really hungry. Did you finish the madeleines too?” 

“He did,” Joe says just as Booker shakes his head. “He came here to pillage our humble abode.”

“I am a  _ guest _ .”

“A parasite.” Nicky interjects “Maybe I should use you as a taster for my videos. We got at least 50 people asking to see Joe eating salads, they could settle for you.”

Booker snorts. “I don’t think we would work, Nicky, also I’m not photogenic. Maybe if there’s alcohol involved.”

“I don’t want to see you two drunk recorded for posterity,” Joe takes a raviola from under Booker’s nose with an innocent smile. Nicky accepts the raviola with a smirk that’s half directed to Booker.

“Thank you, love.”

“Speaking of videos, I just found my favourite youtuber! I was going to show Joe, look!” Booker says, the second last raviola in one hand, sugar dusting his fingers, his phone in the other. Joe lets out a little sigh, he smiles at Booker. Nicky knows he’s missing something from this situation, the reason why Booker is so eager to show him a youtube video of all things. It’s usually Andy the one who forces Nicky or Joe to watch videos of dogs with her —she acts like it’s a very serious matter, Nicky indulges her every time.  _ This dog has Joe energy, look at his cute eyes. Could bring the world to its knees if he used them properly.  _

Booker taps quickly on the screen, he passes the phone to Nicky. 

  
“She’s the best.”

“Should I be offended?”

“You’re not even classified as competition.”

“I think your videos are great, mouse.”

There have been hundreds of similar conversations in the past, moments just like this one, where you can see the boredom of certain old friendships: people forget it is not a bad thing, don’t recognise the value of the quiet rhythm of people knowing each other inside and out, but still choosing to spend time together. It’s the sweetness of rituals, the pauses in our frantic routines that we miss the most when we find ourselves alone. 

We could have avoided describing this moment, here, Joe wearing Nicky’s cardigan, Booker finishing all of Nicky’s  _ raviole _ with genuine gusto, if we didn’t know that looking back at the past, some moments acquire importance, new meaning. 

_ “I actually saw all your videos because of Booker. He was a huge fan.”  _

_ “I still am.” Booker, blushing. Nile smiling, that chemistry, unresolved in the air.  _

_ “Really? I am flattered, Book.”  _

_ Nicky feeling like a third wheel for the first time in a very long time.  _

_ “He showed you the Rodin video, right?” Nile shakes her head. “It’s always the Rodin video.” _

  
  


**“Vlog | museum Sunday w/ Dizzy - Art Institute of Chicago” - 29 M views - 6 years ago**

**By NileArt (14 M subscribers)**

[ _ skip to 8:02 _ ]

Nile Freeman looks at the camera with a smile. She is wearing a green bomber jacket, jeans, a white t-shirt with the words ‘TIME TO FACE THE MOSAIC’ in green and gold letters drawn like they’re made of tassels. Her hair is braided in a crown around her head. She looks no older than twenty years old. 

“This is getting exciting, I didn’t remember so many things!” she says, “I can’t believe I forgot ‘The Bedroom’ was here. We still have a lot to see.” 

“Thrilling.” says someone behind the camera, tone flat. Nile rolls her eyes, but her smile is fond.

“Dizzy! Let yourself feel things. We are surrounded by  _ art _ !” 

She enters a new room, white walls and huge windows, and looks around. The camera zooms on her face, her eyes are bright with energy and move quickly around the room. 

“Okay, okay. This is so much. That is… I don’t know what that is. Also we have to speak quietly. Follow my lead.” her tone goes lower, she whispers as she takes Dizzy’s hand, as it’s visible in a corner of the video. Dizzy laughs, a lovely low sound. 

“Tell me, lieutenant. What do we have here?”

The camera moves, the room is large, two tourists in a corner turn to look at the camera with quizzical expressions. Nile walks away from Dizzy until she is on the opposite corner, in front of a white statue of a woman hugging herself, face hidden by her left arm. 

“ _ Dizzy _ .”

The camera zooms on Nile’s face. Her eyes are the size of saucers. Another camera movement, Nile raises her arm, phone in her hand, as if she wants to touch the statue. 

“ _ IS THIS A RODIN _ ?” she says, almost shouting. The two tourists briskly walk away from the room.

“I don’t.. Know? Nile,  _ your face _ .” Dizzy laughs. 

“What, why are you laughing, Dizzy,  _ focus, a RODIN– _ ”

[ _ pause _ ]

  
  


**Comments:**

**rahh:** Omg I finally found her. 

**Nihile:** this is internet history!!! 

**Yogurt.enthusiast:** her bi vibes are immaculate! I knew she wasn’t straight lmao. 

**fflechat:** am I the only one who is here because her videos are amazing??

[ _ 1.5k likes _ ] [ _ 47 replies _ ]

**brothofreindeer:** @fflechat dude she has 14m subscribers lmao I think people like her videos and not just this one. Yeah this one gave her fame but now her platform is on another level. Her collaboration with Nicky Di Genova recently was a huge success and she also does very well on her own

**capreh:** who else is here because of the Nicky collab 

[ _ 122 replies _ ]

**Alice R.:** @capreh meeeeeee, they’re so cute I’m so glad I found out about her channel

**Coco** **☑️:** I come here every time I need a serotonin shot. Also five years have passed but my crush on Nile is as strong as ever 

**rrodin:** IS THIS A RODIN???? #iconic

**hello_world:** leave a like if you miss vine 

**lesbian_goldfish:** there aren’t enough comments on how gorgeous and cute she is so I’m writing one for y’all

[ _ 3.5k likes _ ]

**Theodore Lo:** Joe quoting this iconic video made me come back. I love their friendship so much

[ _ 987 likes _ ]

––––––––––––––––––––––––––

  
  


After watching the Rodin video three times, mostly because Booker kept talking over the youtuber, Nile, and Joe was genuinely interested in the art, Booker ends up staying for dinner. Again, a pattern in old friendships. 

Despite having devoured all the madeleines and the raviole, Booker enjoys Nicolò’s vegetarian lasagne. Joe praises the cooking, then Booker complains because he wants to watch a movie as they eat.

Nicky may be paranoid, but he thinks that the movie is just a way to avoid an hour of conversation. He is tired, though, so when Joe exclaims: “We should watch ‘Pride and Prejudice’ now that Andy is not here to complain about it” Nicky has to say yes. Strategic or not, watching a movie curled up near Yusuf is what he desperately needs. 

  
‘Pride and Prejudice’ (2005) is the only movie that appears in all their lists of comfort movies, and of course Nicky knows the movie by heart – he has a good memory and his  _ nonna _ loved Jane Austen. Joe loves it because he is a romantic, Booker also because he is a literature nerd just like them, with a slight obsession with period dramas. It’s not even the first time they watch it together, that happened almost four years before, but it’s true that they would never be able to watch ‘Pride and Prejudice’ again with Andy being present. Andy gets bored if there aren’t explosions, especially if Quỳnh is not a fan of the movie either. 

Quỳnh finds Darcy overrated. ‘ _ Maybe if it was gay, MAYBE, I’d like it more. This way I just don’t get it.’ _

They take their plates and they all end up on the bed, Joe’s laptop balanced on a chair. With Booker occupying half of the bed, claiming ‘single privileges’, Nicky is happy with watching the movie with Joe’s arms around him, Joe murmuring his favourite lines in his ears while Booker pretends he is not enjoying every minute of the movie. 

“We are a bit sad, three grown man, watching a chick movie–”

“You love Jane Austen, shut up.”

“How is the rain scene so sexually charged,  _ Mr Darcy. _ ” Joe says in time with Keira Knightley, knowing this will make Nicky laugh. 

As soon as the movie ends and they have also watched the sappy alternative ending –Joe loves it, no one is surprised– Booker knows it’s time to leave. Booker and Joe exchange whispered words by the door while Nicky loads the dishwasher. 

Joe comes back, a small smile on his face. Without Booker present, it is evident he is tired and definitely not ready for Nicky’s questions, which are written on his face to Joe’s trained eyes. 

“Can we go to bed?” Joe asks.  _ Can we not talk?  _ hangs in the air.

“Of course. Give me two seconds.”

“Don’t look at the notebook. We’ll think of something for the video, we’ll…” Joe yawns. “We’ll make a video about baklava.”

“But you don’t like baklava.” Nicky can’t help but say, even if inside it’s just the two brain cells screaming he has missed Joe so much, he is relieved that Joe missed their routine too. He leaves the dishes for the next day, turns off the light. 

“Just get to bed, mouse.”

“Ok, ok.” A concession.

Nicky leaves a kiss on Joe’s forehead. He tries not to think of the channel and the secret cake and Joe wearing his cardigan. He goes to bed and looks at Joe, who falls asleep in a matter of minutes. Even in the dark, Nicky could trace Joe’s freckles on his face and shoulders. It takes Nicky an hour to fall asleep. Thoughts swirl in his brain like ink in water, but when he dreams, the only thing left is Joe. 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––

  
  


_ So many things are happening at once _ , Andy thinks as she comes home from a very long and unnecessary work trip. While she was waiting for her plane, Quỳnh called her, claiming she absolutely needed to update Andy before she came home. 

“Are you sure this isn’t an excuse to hear my voice?” Andy said. Missing Quỳnh has always made her bold.

“You don’t understand, Andy. I feel in the middle of a civil war, except no one is fighting.” Quỳnh answered, ignoring Andy’s words. “Joe and Nicky are the two sides, Booker is not doing anything shady except developing a YouTube addiction.”

“Did he send you the Rodin video?”

“Yeah, and the cake design ones. Anyway, Joe and Nicky. You have to know before you land and they both try to hire you for their secret conspiracies.”

“ Quỳnh, I am not following you.” Around Andy, people were running or briskly walking to their gates. A kid was on the verge of crying, but Andy looked at him and shook her head slowly. The kid shut up immediately.

“Do you remember Jean, the book agent?”

“Uh, yes. They’re hot.”

“Yes, not the point.” Quỳnh was smiling, Andy knew. “They convinced Nicky to keep the book deal for ‘Tangerine’ a secret and this Saturday Nicky wants to do a small celebration.”

  
“That sounds nice. Joe doesn’t mind surprises.”

“ _ Yes _ . But Joe is hiding something too. And it’s much, much bigger. So big he called Booker and Booker had to leave work early and act as a buffer between him and Nicky during dinner.”

“Weird. Joe is not the one for secrets.”

“They want him in Vienna for an art gallery.” Quỳnh rushed the words. In the background, Andy could hear traffic, Florence awakening in the early morning. “It is huge, but I said we were moving–”

“And Nicky was sad.” Andy nodded. “And Joe hates making Nicky sad. How long has this been going on? I was away for  _ three weeks.” _

“I don’t know. It’s like they do things together even when they’re trying not to. They’re both being idiots who don’t communicate.”

  
“They’re always idiots.” Andy agreed. 

“Be prepared, they’ll both ask for your help. Ok, I need to go and you have a plane to take. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

There are two messages waiting for Andy when the plane lands.

[From Nicky to Boss<3] Andy, I am making cake for Joe because Tangerine is happening and he doesn’t know. Saturday 5pm celebration at Booker’s place! Can you find a way to bring Joe there without raising suspicion? Thanks -Nicky 

[From Joe to Captain Andy] Andy. They offered me a job but it’s in Vienna and I am panicking. I need your wisdom? Tell me when we can meet.

Andy looks at the phone. Sometimes Quỳnh’s clairvoyance, born from knowing them all too well, still manages to surprise her. 

“Fucking idiots.”

[From Andy to NICKY] Sure. 

[From Andy to JOE] Meet me at Booker’s, Saturday 5pm. We can talk. You need to tell Nicky. 

_ What would they do without me.  _

  
  


––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Joe has been leaving clues for Nicky. 

First, he gave Nicky  _ ‘The Man Without Qualities’  _ by Musil, under the excuse that Nicky quoted the title one evening while they were discussing ‘Zeno’s Conscience’ –Joe didn’t like the book at all, Nicolò loved it, especially the first part and the end. Nicky seemed touched that Joe remembered the reference, and of course he is the kind of slow but patient reader that manages to read any novel considered a classic.

  
When Nicky finished the third volume, more than a thousand pages later, Joe tried to be subtle: “It is set in Vienna, right?”

“Yes, but it is more a novel of.. ideas than actual actions, I’d say. My head hurts from thinking.” 

No discussions of Vienna came inspired from Musil’s incomplete masterpiece. At least Nicky liked the book. 

After Booker’s dinner, Joe bought a copy of ‘Living’, a magazine about interior design that had never appeared in their house before, and left it open on an article about the beauty of Vienna’s city centre and how people are modernising some flats in that area. Joe found the magazine in the trash two days later. 

Joe started getting desperate. He changed his computer wallpaper to a photo of St.Stephen’s cathedral and Nicky asked if it was Munich. For a brief moment of terror, Yusuf questioned Nicky’s geography education and wondered if Nicky actually knows that Vienna exists.

Saturday is approaching, at least, and with it Andy. He knows Andy isn’t capable of solving the crux of the matter, which is deciding if Joe really wants that job or not, but at least he’ll have someone to talk to that isn’t Booker and his helpful ‘ _ I don’t know, Joe, I think all good things end sooner or later’ _ . Keeping secrets from Nicky has made him realise how much he’s used to asking Nicky for his opinion and values his insight. 

When it’s 4.45pm, Saturday, Joe leaves the house with fragile hope that he will come back knowing what to do next. He only has to walk for ten minutes, but the fresh air is enough to shake him from his gloomier thoughts, especially the ones that tell him that Nicky has no intention to follow him to Austria.  _ Can you imagine Nicky somewhere else than here?  _

Booker’s flat is on the fifth floor, his house is the only one with no flowers on the balcony. He looks up and notices that the door to the balcony is open, but when he rings the bell, no one answers. 

The door unlocks in front of him two minutes later, after he rang three times.

For comedic purposes, we’ll allow a peak in what is happening inside Booker’s flat.

The flat is a mess of plastic cups, paper plates and sad crooked birthday decorations left from Quỳnh’s cousin’s birthday party three years before. The theme was dinosaurs, and now Quỳnh is looking skeptically at the ‘HAPPY B’ letters hanging from the ceiling, complete with diplodocuses and smiling triceratops. 

“What does the B stand for?” asks Copley, whose arrival prompted Booker’s disappearance in a record time of two minutes. 

“B stands for book, of course. I’m sure Joe loves dinosaurs,” replies Quỳnh with practiced bulshitting confidence. 

“ _ Quỳnh _ , could you help me here?!” Nicky’s panicked voice makes her groan. Nicky is usually calm in the face of adversities, but since his oven decided to die in a splutter of smoke in the morning and he had to move to Booker’s kitchen, his precious calm has been replaced by frustration and panic. Booker’s kitchen is modern and pristine, basically unused since in the past years Booker used it mostly to stash wine and Chinese take-away. Nicky has cooked there many times, but he hates Booker’s oven so much he named it after his grandma’s best friend, Giovanna, a terrible lady Quỳnh remembers because she tried to set Nicky up with half of her nieces. 

‘ _ Fuck you, Giovanna _ ’ is a sentence Quỳnh has heard at least thirty times in the past five hours. 

Quỳnh finds Nicky with flour in his hair and and egg yolk on his face. She guesses one egg was sacrificed to the floor because there is an aisle of egg white and shells near the table, making everything sticky. Nicky is decorating the last cake, closes the oven with a kick.

  
“ Quỳnh, please help me with that mess,” he says, slipping in Italian a moment later for a string of curses. 

“How many cakes have you cooked, oh my God,  _ Nicky _ ,” Quỳnh mutters, looking at the table covered with food. Quỳnh’s culinary contribution to the celebration, a tray of sandwiches, has been relegated to the far corner of the table. 

“I did all of Joe’s favourites, now please, the egg!” 

In that moment, the doorbell rings and Nicky blanches. “Is it time already, I thought we still had an hour...”

Quỳnh hears Andy yelling: “FUCK!” from the living room, loud enough to be heard by the neighbours. 

“Copley, don’t open, help me with the tinsel, we have to cover the creepy t-rex.” Quỳnh’s wife orders.

“Where is a mop?” Quỳnh looks around frantically. Booker’s flat is a mystery to her. “Booker, where is the mop–where the fuck are Booker and Jean?”

“BOOKER!” Nicky shouts, but there is no answer. Joe’s agent is also missing.

No one answers, so Andy opens the door to the balcony and Quỳnh follows her, dreading the worst. They look down and see Joe waiting by the door, with Jean and Booker hiding behind garbage bins a few metres behind. Jean is holding three helium balloons. 

“If they’re down there, I will kill them!” Nicky announces cheerily, sending a chill down Quỳnh’s spine. 

The doorbell rings again, together with Andy’s phone. Andy looks at the screen, then shows it to Quỳnh.

[from Joe to Captain Andy:] Andy?

[from Booker to Boss:] Open the door. We have a plan.   
  


“I have a terrible feeling about this.” Quỳnh mutters, but when Copley goes to open the door, no one stops him, not even Nicky, who has now reached his final stage of panic, which involves sending murderous looks to everything and anyone, especially the egg he is trying to remove from the floor using T-Rex themed paper towels. 

The doorbell rings a final time, then Joe is inside the building. Booker and Jean later will tell the epic story of how they hid behind Mrs.Zucchelli’s plants to avoid getting caught, and how Jean started laughing and then couldn’t stop because Booker almost fell face first into a vase in the attempt to catch one of the balloons. It’s still a mystery how Joe walked right past them and didn’t see Booker, almost 1.90m, crouching behind a withered example of devil’s tongue, or the three helium ‘Get well soon’ balloons floating above them – ‘ _ Actually, I did see the balloons, but I thought Mrs.Zucchelli wasn’t feeling well.’ _

Booker’s plan turns out to be simple but effective: Joe always takes the stairs, Booker and Jean take the elevator. (If Joe hears someone whistling the Mission Impossible theme while he climbs the stairs, he doesn’t think much about it.) Jean and Booker open the elevator door and run inside the flat, they all cheer them as they reach the living room. “Quick, quick!” Quỳnh hisses, she grabs Booker’s hand and drags him down with her.

No one talks about how awkward surprise parties are the moment before the guest of honour steps in. Quỳnh thinks about this as she almost trips on Copley’s legs, Copley who is hiding behind the sofa too, as far away as possible from Booker. Andy is the only one who can just wait for Joe by the door, and somehow she convinced Nicky to hide in the coat closet, ‘It can be symbolic for something, just get inside’. Quỳnh crouches next to Copley. 

“Is it always like this?” Copley asks, voice barely over a whisper. He looks a bit lost, which makes Quỳnh feel bad. Sometimes they don’t realise how they must appear to external people, being so used to their internal rules of chaos and countless traditions.

“We’re usually worse,” she whispers, and Copley smiles.

It’s still incredibly awkward, even when Joe steps in, hugs Andy and they all jump out of their hiding places. No one knows what to scream, so they all say different things, ranging from ‘Happy Book Deal!’, to ‘TANGERIIIIINE!’, to a terribly unconvincing ‘Ta-daaa’, the last one coming from Copley. 

Joe blinks, confused, but they all keep talking at the same time, and even if he’s smiling, Quỳnh  _ knows  _ he has zero clues about what’s happening. Joe actually looks a bit worried, his eyes wide, his smile strained. 

“Andy, what–”

Andy brusquely hands him some papers, the first page figures the photo of a tangerine with ‘CONGRATULATIONS’ written in Comic Sans underneath –’ _ I know how to use photoshop’, Booker, 2014 _ .

“What is this, Andy, I don’t understand,” Joe looks at the other sheets of paper, the first shows the beginning of an email. Realisation dawns on his face as he reads and Quỳnh thinks Nicky wasn’t joking when he said that seeing Joe smile is like witnessing a perfect sunrise. Joe is clutching the papers, he bites his bottom lip hard. The silence around him is suddenly happy, electric, like they’re all swept up in Joe’s slow, happy realisation.

“I am very close to starting to sing ‘Happy birthday’, so please, turn around?”

Joe turns around so fast to the sound of Nicky’s voice that Quỳnh doesn’t manage to see his reaction. What she sees is Nicky coming from the kitchen, holding a huge rectangular cake. The blue icing spells HAPPY BOOK DEAL on a white base and small tangerines made of sugar decorate the edges. In true Nicky’s fashion, the cake is beautiful and somehow tidy, the hours spent making it are painfully clear in the perfect line of the little tangerines, in the Arabic translation under the English version. All the effort must be worth it though, because looking at Joe’s face Nicky’s eyes begin to water. 

Nicky is fully grinning, a rare sight, and Joe must be smiling –and crying– too. It’s always a small wonder when Nicky and Joe look at each other and act like the rest of the world has disappeared.

“Surprise?” Nicky says, and  _ yes _ , now Joe’s crying. Andy hugs him fiercely, Booker laughs when Joe insults them all from behind Andy’s shoulder: “I can’t believe it, you idiots, you did all this–what is that, a T-Rex?”

Jean pats the velociraptor carton cutout affectionately, another gift from Quỳnh’s cousin’s birthday party. “It’s a velociraptor, but I have no idea why it’s here.”

Joe hugs them too, right after Andy, but Jean is quick at pushing him in Nicky’s direction. Nicky catches Joe with hands around his waist.

“Your hair is full of flour,” Joe says softly, in a way that means something completely different.

“It’s actually sugar,” Nicky answers, in a way that means something equally different. 

They kiss. ‘Happy’ by Pharell Williams starts playing from Booker’s speakers, and Quỳnh thinks that maybe this is the opposite of awkward. Maybe this is awkward  _ and _ great. 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––

When Joe sees the cakes, plural, that Nicky made for him, he knows that he needs to tell Nicky about Vienna.

He lets the other hug him, he lets Jean make a speech that everybody interrupts to scream ‘TANGERINE’ every time they take a pause to breathe, he lets Andy propose a game of charades that ends with Booker and him losing against the unstoppable force that are Quỳnh and Nicky combined efforts. He lets Nicky kiss him once, twice, twenty times as the party becomes a dinner. He eats so many different types of cakes he fears for his health, even if Booker assures him: “I have done worse in the past three years and I’m still alive.” 

He lets Jean talk his ear off about marketing, book covers, online release. He lets Andy get away with her trickery, because he doesn’t need her help anymore, just like he probably didn’t need it in the first place. He lets Quỳnh take approximately three hundreds photos of him, Nicky and the table full of cakes, before and after the sugary banquet. Nicky eats exclusively the apple pie, claiming the rest is ‘criminally unhealthy’. Joe eats meringues in his face just to see the way Nicky’s eyes follow his tongue when he licks the cream off his lips. 

He lets Quỳnh take a photo of him with the velociraptor cutout. He laughs until his chest hurts.

But after all of that, he takes Nicky’s hand, looks at him in the eyes, and tells him, quietly: “We need to talk.”

––––––––––––––––––––––––––

**“Nicky at Night - Icing cakes and discussing midnight snacks” - 890k views - 6 years ago**

Everything’s dark.

A phone screen lights up, then the phone flashlight turns on, pointed at the face of estimated youtuber Nicky Genovesi. He is holding the phone so that light hits him under the chin, making for a cheap horror effect. He looks around, then he goes to close the kitchen door. 

“Okay, this will be a very unorthodox video, but please bear with me.” Nicky says, then a noise of creaking wood shuts him up. His eyes are wide as if he’s scared.

“Joe is asleep.” Nicky whispers, “So this will be a very,  _ very _ quiet video. Also I suck at editing videos so it’s probably going to be…” another pause, he turns to open a drawer, slowly to avoid making abrupt noises. “It will be a one take video. Like artistic European cinema.”

“Joe is publishing a book, and we want to throw him a surprise party. Of course, I wanted to bake something.” 

Nicky looks to his left, in the direction of the table. 

“The situation got out of hand,” he grimaces “We have three cakes and I want to decorate them, so that tomorrow I can make the other four.”

He looks at the fridge with a pensive expression. The light of the phone highlights the dark circles under his eyes making him look like a raccoon in search of food. 

“Also I’m hungry as fuck and I want to make myself a sandwich. Or crepes.”

[ _ pause _ ]

**Comments:**

**toofasttoogaytoofurious:** this feels like an episode of a ghost hunting series only no ghosts show up and Nicky just cooks crepes and eats way too much sugar

**coffveve:** this video is so underrated and funny jadfkjsdb ‘when you want to eat cereals but you’re afraid your mom is going to hear you’ YES

**mychemicalbromance:** SEVEN CAKES. He is so extra are all Italians like that 

**Belacqua:** did he film this with a potato I can’t see shit 

**N:** No joe, dislike button. It’s as simple as that. 

**Kamala** : @N he’s making the cakes for Joe though TvT 

**N:** @Kamala still feels homophobic

**mouse_toulouse:** wow new footage from the blair witch project ajdkfjsdbk

**Pinoli** : @mouse_toulouse the last member of the group of friends, the Italian gay disaster eating crepes at three in the morning 

**Jamie:** #RevealTheHusband

**N:** @Jamie even here for fucks sake GET A LIFE

**larry_agenda:** I am worried about his health that much sugar is *not* healthy

**Dolphininlovewithashark:** brb I’m crying imagining Joe’s face when he sees the cakeS and/or this video

––––––––––––––––––––––––––

“We need to talk.” Yusuf says, serious.

Nicky’s face doesn’t change, but his eyes immediately look vacant and he is not smiling at all, not even with the corner of the mouth like he usually does, and Yusuf realises his mistake. 

  
“Oh, shit, no, it’s not about us. Sorry, sorry.”

Immediately, Nicky closes his eyes and exhales, relief makes him smile. 

  
“That sentence fucks me up since 2011, you can’t do this to me with a light heart,” Nicky smiles despite himself “Maybe we should talk at home?”

They’re alone in Booker’s living room, and even if they tried to keep the place clean, there are little clues of the celebration all around them: on the black leather sofa there are a few popcorns left like Hansel and Gretel’s trail, the H of ‘HAPPY B’ lies on the floor forgotten, a plastic cup filled with water and cigarette butts sits on the top shelf, together with a single silver frame. 

Yusuf knows the photo. It’s one of Sebastien and Sophie, a few days after Sebastien proposed. Booker is wearing a white wrinkled shirt and jeans, while Sophie is breathtaking in a long aquamarine dress. They were directed to a fancy dinner, but Joe managed to take a photo of them before they left, capturing Sophie’s fond smile and Booker’s mischievous laugh, probably because he knew he was, for once, ridiculously underdressed. 

Booker put away most of Sophie’s things, leaving the flat cold and modern like the first day he set foot in it, but there are still shadows of her, and Yusuf chases them, hoping to never forget her. He really liked Sophie. He realises she will never visit them in Vienna, if they ever decide to leave. He will have memories of Sophie in their flat in Florence, how she liked kicking the washing machine to make it start again, how she was the only one who wasn’t afraid of the spiders in the cupboard, but he will never know if she would have liked Vienna. 

“Hey, come back to me?” Nicky’s thumb brushes his cheek, Nicky’s fingers are warm from the wine and Yusuf welcomes the touch. 

“You’ve been sad, lately,” Nicky speaks like he’s confessing “I hoped the party would help. And the book! It’s great news.”

Yusuf’s heart aches again hearing Nicky’s carefully hopeful tone, as if he’s afraid Yusuf didn’t like the party or the news of the book deal. 

“It is. I just, they offered me a job?” Yusuf can’t stop the words, not after how difficult the past days have been for both of them “As an art curator, it’s an incredible opportunity,” he hates how his words sound practiced,  _ an incredible opportunity _ , this is his  _ dream _ , part of it. He can feel the fervor in his voice rising, “It would mean more money, but also I would be near art again, they like my ideas, they said they were impressed by my articles and my cv. They sent me an email two weeks ago, I wanted to tell you right way, I did, but it’s in Vienna. Andy and Quỳnh are already leaving, I couldn’t bear to break your heart.”

Nicky is silent, but that doesn’t surprise Joe. Emotions in Nicky run in his eyes and in his deliberate movements, in the way he looks at Joe and breathes slowly, like he is the one who needs to keep Joe calm. 

“Do you want me to go with you to Vienna?”

Joe desperately wants to touch Nicky, but he knows he needs Nicky focused, just like he can’t be distracted by the familiar comfort of Nicky’s hands. They are already tired from the party and this conversation is important: couples that have been together longer than them have broken up during similar conversations. They really should have waited until home, but there is some kind of hidden truth in them discussing their future while being close to their little family. 

“Of course I want to. But it means leaving Italy.”

“Italians don’t know geography, but I know where Austria is.”

A pause. “It’s not like I have to come back to my parents for Christmas.”

Only then Yusuf looks up and finds Nicolò… smiling a bit, like he does when Yusuf is being endearing but slightly ridiculous. There is a trace of sad resignation, too, which is always present when he talks about his family.

“Are you angry that I didn’t tell you?”

“Yes. I want you to trust me. I need your faith in us,  _ amore mio. _ We can do Vienna.  _ Anywhere with you, _ remember?” Nicky remembers Malta as much as Joe, of course.

“I should start after the summer.”

Nicky inhales deeply, takes Yusuf’s hands between his. In a move that is clearly inspired by Pride and Prejudice (2005), he kisses Yusuf’s hands, his smile a promise.

“I can work with that.” 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––

**“We tried: Baklava edition - with a guest!” - 23M views - 6 years ago**

[ _ play _ ]

The kitchen is empty.

“So I go first or you go first? Or do we go together?”

“For [censored], Nicky. I don’t have all day.”

[ _ cut _ ]

  
Nicky awkwardly waves to the camera.

“ _ Ciao a tutti _ , hello everyone and welcome back to my channel! I am Nicolò Genovesi, Nicky for you, and today we’re trying something new. Or, to be honest, something I have never managed to get right.”

Nicky smiles, he is wearing a white apron and a blue t-shirt that brings out the colours of his eyes. Behind him there are two empty chairs, on the table a white plastic bowl, butter and a honey jar. 

“We are baaack!” Joe says, offscreen. Nicky laughs, but he keeps looking to the left as if something is catching his eye, and his smile is one second away from becoming a full laugh.

“We are! Many people complained that Joe wasn’t in my last video, I do apologise for this crime.”

“Excluding me like this, like I am not a fundamental part of this channel. I can’t believe you made seven different cakes for me.” Joe doesn’t sound offended at all. 

“You deserve all of that and more.”

A discreet cough interrupts the first session of ‘Nicky getting lost in Joe’s eyes’ of the video. Nicky coughs, his cheeks pink.

“Uhm, before I forget, this time we want to make an exception and give a special thanks to our friend Jean, who didn’t leave a comment but has been an invaluable help in the past month. Jean, you are amazing.”

“Look, if I have to grow old here tell me and I can leave.” says a new voice, offscreen. Nicky immediately grins, a bit embarrassed.

“We are pleased to inform you that we have a guest!” Nicky proclaims, “Andy, come here.”

A gorgeous woman with black short hair and electric blue eyes steps in, wearing a black tank top that shows off her toned arms and dark jeans. A tattoo of an axe is visible on one shoulder. 

“Hello.” she says to the camera, tone flat but threatening nonetheless. 

“Make her wear the hamtaro apron! It’s tradition!” Joe is clearly having a good time. Andy shoots him a look that could make grown men cry in fear.

“Right, right!” Nicky agrees, “Andy, my kitchen, my rules. You have to wear the Hamtaro apron. It is part of the history of this channel, so please be careful.”

“I’ll set it on fire.”

“ANDY!”

Scoffing and rolling her eyes, Andy agrees to wear the apron, BASIA COQUUM stitched on the front. She touches the Hamtaro stitched over the heart with a confused expression.

“I am here to taste the final results and give my honest opinion. I told Nicky, I will be honest. Cruelly so, if the situation requires.”

“Why am I regretting this already?” Nicky asks, clearly directed to Joe. Andy raises an eyebrow. 

“Scared? I didn’t think you were this weak.”

[ _ pause _ ]

[ _ skip to 19:20 _ ]

Andy stabs the slice on his plate, beside her Nicky is red in the face but silent, he is looking at her, perfectly still. 

“This is the moment.” Joe says, almost giddy.

While around her reigns perfect silence, Andy brings a piece of baklava to her mouth. She chews, eyes closed, head thrown back.

“Holy [censored].” she declares.

“Is it a good holy [censored]?” Joe whispers.

“[censored] [unholy moaning]. [censored]”

“Andy, I need words.” Nicky holds a little plate with a slice for himself, too, but doesn’t show signs of eating it. 

“This is good, Nicky. This is very good. [censored] Booker owes you money.”

“Oh.” Nicky smiles and stuffs the entire slice in his mouth.

“ _ Oh _ .” Nicky’s eyes widen, he looks frantically at Joe. Despite the food in his mouth: “Holy [censored].”

“I definitely feel like I’m intruding. Give me a piece of that.”

“Nicky. You are a great cook.”

  
  


**Comments:**

**Virgy:** As a bi woman, I feel attacked by the level of hotness in this video

**Johnnlock:** Andy is soooo hot

**vertigo:** this showed up on my feed and oh my god they are so cute

**DevilInDetails:** Andy ships JoeNicky she looks at them with the ‘JUST KISS’ face. 

Honestly relatable

**NickyJoe: THEY GOT SO FAR I AM EMOTINOAL**

**Raedeeer:** @NickyJoe can you learn to spell

**NickyJoe:** @Raedeer can you learn to stfu I’m having a moment here

**Pinoli:** This blew up?? LOOK AT THE VIEWS

**Jar Jar Stinks:** for once thank you youtube algorithm, you did one (1) good thing. I love this guy

**Belacqua:** I think they might be famous shdbghsb 1 M SUBSCRIBERS BITCHES

**Pinoli:** @Belacqua what is happening fuck fuck fuck

**Belacqua:** @Pinoli some big cooking channel reblogged this on twitter and fb 

**Pinoli:** @Belacqua *Office gif* IT IS HAPPENING EVERYBODY STAY CALM

––––––––––––––––––––––––––

“Nicky?”

“Mh?”

“Remember when you said to me you would never ever dye your hair but I said: ‘Why don’t we bet on it’, and you said: ‘ok’, and I said: ‘When you get a million subscribers we will both dye our hair’?”

“Mh, yes? Booker, I’m trying to find a nice place that doesn’t cost an eye and a leg here. You’re supposed to help me look for nice flats in Vienna, not–Is that my channel?”

“What do you think about blue hair?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, you got this far.<3  
> -Booker being underdressed while his companion is dressed to the nines is inspired by Matthias Schoenaerts doing the exact same thing during an event. I’ll find those photos again I swear  
> -I had to google ‘pop songs of 2014’ and I subsequently had ‘Happy’ in my head for three days afterwards  
> -did I destroy my entire plan for this fic because I wanted to include Nile before they met her? Yes. Was it worth it? Yes (I think so??)

**Author's Note:**

> As you know/may have guessed, I'm on tumblr. If you want to scream at me, I'm @nicolodigenovas (aka Lyde)


End file.
